King of Serpents: Summer of Ice
by karatemaster101
Summary: The school year has come and gone, and Artemis returns home for the summer, brimming with plans for himself...and for the People. But even the best plans can go astray, as Artemis learns when shocking news about his father interrupts his little scheme! COMPLETED: SEQUEL UP
1. Summer in Paris

**First of all, I would like to thank all of my great readers who have stuck with my previous story, King of Serpents, to the very end. It was my first "real" fiction, with a long-term plot and everything, and I couldn't have done it without all of your support and advice. And I probably would not have begun writing the sequel if you guys hadn't been so great to me in the first. Seriously, King of Serpents was probably my most successful story.**

**I feel that there is always room for improvement, so just because this is my second book, does not mean that I'm still not taking advice and suggestions from you guys. On the contrary, I've still got a long way to go. So any sort of help would be appreciated.**

**And without further ado, here's the sequel you've all been waiting for!**

* * *

_Paris_

In such a large city as this, many strange things tend to go unnoticed.

Such as the pair walking under one of the many bridges that cross the Seine, for instance.

It was a rather odd couple – the first of the group was small boy, who could not have been older than eleven or twelve, and yet had a strange complexion to his face and a depth to his intense blue eyes that made him look wiser and more dangerous than the man standing next to him.

His dark raven hair was neatly combed, and he sported a dark, well-pressed suit, made from the finest fabrics and materials, complete with a tie and impecabbly shined shoes, in a way that added a rather stylish flair to what would have otherwise been a very conservative look. His hands were smooth and thin, as were his long fingers, and had probably done no actual labor (unless you counted playing "Flight of the Bumblebee" on the piano, which is actually much more difficult than Maksim Mrvica makes it look).

The boy was well-groomed and his fingernails were very precisely cut. In fact, everything about him was very precise. Whether it was his slim, if angular shape, his calculating eyes, and his overall appearance, or his habitual behavior, in general - it was all precise. There was no cutting corners or laziness for this young man, which was a feat in itself, considering the condition of other children of his age.

The boy seemed to _live_ for precision. Mathematics and sciences were everything to him; even the inexplicable coincidences or the unexplainable feats of magic or the fickleness of the human mind had an exact, scientific reasoning behind it, for him. Everything in life had an answer.

Yet he was smart enough to know that life was _not _a function, and that answers were sometimes even more convoluted than the question itself. He could bend and twist his oh-so-very versatile mind so easily, and arrive at the right shape so quickly, in response to any problem or question thrown to him. And his answers, while undoubtedly were nowhere near an easily identified geometric shape - they were probably answers that most people did not even dream existed - were still geometric and sensible in their own fashion.

That was what made him a genius.

The man in question, on the other hand, was a monstrous giant, at least eight feet tall, with a strong jaw and biceps to put Olympic weightlifters to shame. Even though his arms were hidden under his long sleeves, one could easily tell from a distance that his muscles were at least the size of the average man's legs.

He, like the young boy, wore a well-pressed, dark suit, though the material was much different. The suit was built for action, and the man was definitely well-suited for that suit in particular.

(He was well-suited for that suit, just like that suit was well-suited for him, in a way in which both suited one another very well, so you could say that the suit was well-suited for the man well-suited for the suit well-suited for him in return, though perhaps not in that certain suit of action, for the suit that well-suited the man well-suited for the suit was suited for a certain suit of action, and perhaps a different suit of action was ill-suited for the man well-suited for the suit well-suited for him, since neither the man well-suited for a certain suit of action wearing the suit well-suited for that certain suit of action were suitable in the ill-suited suit of action, and vice versa ten times over.)

Top that, Lemony Snicket.

One's first guess would be that of father and son, but the two looked nothing alike, and in any case, the older man's behavior was a far cry from that of an actual father. His eyes were darting around suspiciously, and he stood around the boy in an overly protective stance, not with the kindness of a father, but with the discipline of a soldier. In fact, a soldier or a guard of some sort might have been a pretty good guess - a better one than a father, at any rate. The older man actually seemed to be taking _orders_ from the little boy - though the little boy was wise enough to be discreet about it, so that the nature of the orders in question was indecipherable to an outsider.

Both had reflective sunglasses folded into the breast pocket of their suits, even though it was nighttime.

Why they did so was unknown.

If one looked closely, one could see the boy holding a piece of wood – a branch of cypress, maybe – and tapping it periodically against the bricks on the wall of the underside of the bridge. (Just like his precise nature would lead one to predict.)

If one looked even closer, one could even see a slightly suspicious bulge in the suitcase that the tall man was carrying.

The boy's lips would occasionally twitch inconspicuously, enough to be conveying some sort of message to the tall man, whose only replies would be a nod or a gesture.

As it was, though, the night was descending upon the inhabitants of France, and the people of Paris were only eager to get indoors – to their homes, their dinners, their families, or some party (yet again.)

There was no point in stopping and staring at strange people who occur daily (or nightly, in this case) when more important things were at stake. Like that one appointment with the pretty lady who "knew" the Minister of Education and could possibly get you an important job if you played your social cards right.

No one noticed the pair all of a sudden seem to disappear through the wall.

* * *

The Pont Louis-Philippe was truly lovely at this time of night. Glowing lights carved brightness through the otherwise black night, and illuminated the underside of the bridge like a perfectly straight row of oversized glow-worms. Their reflections bounced back cheerfully from the surface of the dark waters, the little waves of the Seine refracting their smooth light into rippling dots of yellow.

Butler sighed. "Sir?"

"Yes, Butler?"

"How will we get this past Lady Angeline?"

To say Butler was concerned would be quite correct.

His young charge had yet again come up with another one of his devious plans. The worst part was, since he was the only one Butler was assigned to, it meant that Artemis had the final say over his actions.

These actions happened to be assisting the boy in deceiving his mother yet again.

Artemis was currently tapping his wand in a pattern on the southernmost arc on the underside of the bridge. With a rumble, the bricks sprang to life, much like those times in Diagon Alley, and the duo stepped through, allowing the structure to close behind them, reforming to its previous state.

Unlike Diagon Alley they knew from home, which preferred a somewhat darker, more medieval design, however, this city was bright and flaming with color and life, like a fancy high society party thrown by one of the royal families from the Renaissance era.

"Magical Paris is so much more extravagant than home, isn't it?" the boy answered cryptically.

"It is rather flamboyant," Butler agreed uncomfortably. Artemis only dodged the subject when his secrets were extremely important.

Artemis' mother was currently away at a party with some of her contacts in France. She had tried to persuade Artemis to come, hoping that her son would be able to forge some international friendships with some students from Beauxbatons, the magical school for students mainly from the Mediterranean area, but to no avail.

He had instead assured his mother that he would be fine, and when she left, had decided to bring Butler along for a "tour of Paris." Butler knew better. Artemis had been trying to find something.

And find it he did.

The difficult part was keeping it a secret from Lady Angeline when she returned.

* * *

_Flashback: June_

Artemis had been annoyed at first when his mother surprised him with "vacation" when he returned from Hogwarts.

He had been planning so many things to do at home, but then his mother decided that it would be a _great_ idea to drag him out on a "global tour".

"It'll be fun, darling! Like an adventure!"

Artemis knew better. She wanted him to meet new people.

There was nothing wrong with meeting new people, but new children were a different matter altogether.

He had hoped that at least one of them would turn out to be slightly intelligent and capable like his friends from Hogwarts. (Even if Blaise acted like the clown of their little "group", at times, he was still pretty smart.) He had called them so at first, only to appease his mother, who was concerned about his social skills, but after reassuring her about his relationship with his colleagues, Artemis supposed that they truly counted as friends.

After all, their owls to him were the only thing that kept him from going insane over these antics.

Theodore Nott had sent everyone some very interesting photographs from the Himalayas, as well as a detailed explanation of the true nature of the Yeti. Somehow the boy had gotten a close-up view of one while climbing Mount Everest – Artemis could see the creature clawing at the camera screen on one of the prints. Theodore was always on these trips with his father.

Blaise Zabini, on the other hand, was at home relaxing and overall, accomplishing nothing. Artemis had to give him some credit for being able to make that sound interesting in his message to the world.

He smiled at Draco Malfoy's letter. News of their not-so-little stunt during their first year had naturally arrived back at Lucius Malfoy, and the man had apparently been angry enough to kill. If it hadn't been for Narcissa Malfoy's intervention, Draco's head would have apparently been hanging from a spear tip by now. Artemis actually laughed to himself when he got to this point.

It was obviously exaggerated – Lucius Malfoy was smart enough not to kill his only heir no matter how angry he was. As predicted, Draco was now under house arrest ("grounded," was the term used by people his age) for being so "Gryffindor-like" and associating with Artemis (the good-for-nothing mercantile "blood-traitors"), although the boy did receive a Nimbus 2001 as compensation (meaning his father was somewhat pleased that the rash action had kept Slytherin House in the winning streak and Dumbledore on their good side).

Even Hermione Granger, whom Artemis had had low opinions of at first, wrote to him. She was wondering how he was, where he was, and if he had met anyone else who he could deem "worthy of his precious time." (The nerve! Though, it was most likely rather amusing to a third party reading the letter…)

Quite the opposite had occurred. All of them turned out to be exactly like those airheaded, brainless morons that had driven to such an antisocial personality in the first place.

It was summer! He was hot, bored, and overall miserable during the entire trip. He wanted nothing more than to return home and continue his research on the People and his quest to find his father. How was he supposed to do this when his mother insisted on these pointless journeys?

What if there was an important alert while they were zooming around the earth? Artemis had not told his mother about his plans concerning the search for his father, because he knew that she would disapprove. One, it would be "dangerous," and two, many of his tactics were probably on the shadier side of the law.

Their last stop had been Paris, and by then it was already nearing the end of July. Artemis mourned the loss of his precious time. He would only have three weeks – that was hardly enough time – to continue his studies before he was shipped back to Hogwarts.

He had been in such a dismal mood that he had rejected his mother's invitation to attend some senseless high-society ball on the last day of the trip more harshly than originally intended. She had been very hurt, but wisely decided that the best course of action would be to surrender and to simply leave her son to his own devices.

Artemis took this as the perfect opportunity to sneak out into the city (with Butler coming along, of course – going alone would be ludicrous) and visit some of his less scrupulous informants. Filling a suitcase with some "paper persuasion," they had not gotten far when they were met with a rather unusual scene. Unusual, but not impossible, considering some of the other events Artemis had witnessed.

_Perhaps this summer had not been as fruitless as I originally judged_, Artemis thought to himself. His trademark vampire grin graced his stony features as he watched Butler pack the luggage again, the bills turned into worthless padding compared to their new treasure.

Stepping through the wall of the Pont Louis-Philippe, Artemis was suddenly glad that his mother had dragged him to Paris.

* * *

**A/N: The Pont Louis-Phillipe is just one of the bridges that span the Seine in Paris. I thought that would be a pretty neat hiding place for a magical Paris, kind of like Diagon Alley in London, but behind a bridge instead of an alley.**


	2. Here Comes Trouble

_Flashback_

Trouble Kelp cursed as he pushed the struggling fugitive into the pod. The little sprite was still beating its wings quite pitifully.

He had been hoping today would be a quiet day, but _nooo,_ the day he was the most tired was the day that everyone decided to act up.

He could have sworn he deserved a break. Mulling over the day in his mind…he supposed it could be worse, because he hadn't failed in any way, but d'Arvit, he was utterly exhausted…

* * *

That morning, he had woken up extra early to mentally make up for his lateness a few months prior and made it to the office on time. Two seconds after he entered the sliding door, the little red light on his desk had flashed red and beeped (they were so annoying – which was why they were used – no one could ignore them).

A certain kleptomaniac dwarf, who had by now become famous within the LEP's circles, had escaped from prison yet again, this time by hiding in the garbage chute in the inmate cafeteria. He had already been on his way up to the surface before anyone realized he was missing, and on his way to Mud Man London by the time the worthless excuses for security guards had decided it was a good idea to report him.

"Prisoner 0784 has escaped to the surface. We need to send Retrieval after him, sir."

The news had gone through so many on the chain of command that the message had been delayed by a good two minutes before it finally reached him. And, of course, the normal Recon guys wouldn't be enough - Diggums was one smart dwarf, and he had already gotten up to the surface.

So now, they had to send him out, being the veteran. He rolled his eyes, grabbed his gear, and got up. Trouble wanted nothing more to do than send out someone else, but he couldn't trust any of the rookies to handle Mulch Diggums. Even then, though he was the best in the job, the slippery dwarf had nearly escaped, and if Trouble hadn't known him so well, he probably would have.

As it was, however, Trouble had been distracted when Diggums caused a huge ruckus by releasing his gas on a structural beam, nearly knocking over one of those Mud Man bridges. Trouble had barely avoided disaster by stuffing the dwarf in place of the missing beam while he hastily fused the metal back together with his laser pistol.

It had ruined the day for him. He had emerged from it all with plenty of bruises and a soaked uniform. He clamped the handcuffs on Diggums extra tight, hoping that permanent scars would possibly result, and gave the prison warden a nasty lecture for that.

* * *

He returned to his office, hoping to at least be able to put his feet up and drink coffee for the rest of the day, but fate had it out for him. Another call had sent him to the surface yet again, with a team of complete newbies, tracking down some other stupid runaway fairy.

He hated pixies. They were always so small and fast. And they had an annoying, squeaky voice. He had long tuned out the protests of the newest capture (what was his name, anyway? Trouble had forgotten – he was too tired to care anyway. It wasn't his job to remember names – that was the operations department.)

In any event, the pixie had been smuggling goods from the surface to Haven City, and when a border wheelie had stopped him and asked for identification, he had made a run for it. At least this wasn't a very smart pixie – in a panic, he had run diagonally across the country, cutting through the most obvious places. They caught up to him fairly quickly, but he put up a pretty good fight.

The trainees were supposed to be helping and improving, but being the infants they were, just made the situation worse. Trouble ended up doing everything himself _and_ rescuing their sorry hides. One of the worst things was that his younger brother had been part of that group of blockheads. If he had to hear "But Mummy said!" one more time, he would personally strangle that child's neck and wring it out slowly.

He sentenced them back to the training circuit for five weeks because of that.

..."But Mummy said!"

"Grub, shut up."

* * *

This time, he didn't even get to make it back underground before he got another call.

"Captain Kelp," the helmet radio sounded YET AGAIN. What was it with today?

"What?" he snarled. It was from the base. If it was another mission…

He loved his job, but that was asking too much. Throwing three Retrievals after him in one day! If he didn't love Haven so much he would've just peeled off the badge and resign right then and there.

"A goblin is on the loose near Mud Man Cardiff –"

D'Arvit.

Goblins were even worse than pixies. He, being an elf, was not too fond of fireballs rushing past his precious pointy ears, as they were now. At least this time a couple of more reliable veterans were sent along. They were more capable than those recruits that were sent along in the pixie incident.

"D'Arvit!" he heard the other end of the helmet radio crackle. Then, it was silent.

Maybe not.

Swearing loudly himself, he fired and managed to knock out the goblin. They were getting bolder and bolder every time – or stupider. Venturing out into broad daylight, for the love of the gods. It keeled over, long nails curling over the conspicuous purple bruise that was forming on its forehead.

"Right, in you go, Skippy," he muttered, clapping on the handcuffs. He left the downed officer to be carried back by the other one.

* * *

Trouble sighed. Things couldn't get more tiring. Three escaping surface fugitives, and it was not even lunch break. Speaking of which, he really deserved one.

At least the evening was quiet. He had finished his lunch without interruption and actually managed to get some paperwork done. He hoped it would stay this way.

No such luck.

He was halfway through his evening meal when the beeper sounded once more. "What is it _this _time?"

"Another fugitive, Captain Kelp –"

"Can't you fools send someone else for once, _please_?" he begged.

"If you think someone else can handle a crazed bull troll and a runaway sprite at the same time, by all means, go ahead."

Trouble buried his head in his hands. This was just not his day. He threw down his fork; he knew that he couldn't just leave that task to someone else if he didn't want a bunch of accidents and mind-wipes. Damn his sense of duty.

"I'll be there in five minutes," he sighed.

* * *

Paris was a very beautiful place, he had to admit, considering it had been designed by Mud Men. But that was not his concern now. The important thing was the troll thundering its way through the city, ravaging everything that was in sight.

"LEPRetrieval One, report in."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

_Seven_, he said to himself. All right, time to take down a troll and find that sprite.

At least the night air felt good. Elves loved flying; there was no doubt about that. Trouble smiled to himself as the cool night air whooshed past his face. Foaly's new design was absolutely gorgeous; it was almost like having real wings. Trouble sometimes wished that he was a sprite, just so that he could fly whenever he wanted.

Speaking of the sprite, it was currently cowering in an alley, trying to hide from the troll. Upon seeing the sleek black uniform that clearly screamed, "This is LEPRetrieval One!" and the name tag that proclaimed, "Here comes Trouble! (Literally)" the kid had tried to escape. Quite stupid.

"Oh, no, you're not getting away that easily," Trouble growled. "I've had a long day, and there's still a troll out there; don't make my job already harder than it is." Not that the sprite would listen. There was a short struggle before Trouble subdued him and forced him into the pod, but being as tired as he was, it would only complicate things.

Slamming the door of the pod shut, Trouble addressed the team, "Good work everyone. Let's get that troll down, and then we can all go knock ourselves out at home on our beds."

The helmet radio crackled again. Oh no…if this was another one…

He had captured the sprite not a moment too soon, for number Four reported the troll lumbering through the city. Not that it was necessary. You could see (and smell) it all the way from the suburbs.

"Everyone ready your tranquilizers." They'd need many successive shots from all members of the team to take this one down. "Shields up!"

Making his way around the plaza, Trouble Kelp placed a dart into the deposit. Mud Men were running amuck, screaming, which didn't ease his nasty migraine. Gods, he hated trolls.

"D'Arvit!" The troll had swiped at a particularly rickety building. It barely kicked down the door, and the whole rotten structure already came tumbling down. "Now!" All seven members released several bursts of tranquilizer, and the last thing he saw before the beam came crashing down upon him was a giant troll fainting.

Not a pretty sight.

Trouble heard a nasty snap as several of his bones broke and his spine dislocated. A large piece of wood that was once a sign came crashing down upon his head, and an ominous crack sounded as the issued helmet flew off. At least his wings were not broken. Foaly would have had a cow about it, seeing as the centaur technician had just equipped him with the new Dragonfly set only last week.

Gasping, he tried to move, only to feel bolts of pain shoot up around his entire body. Wincing, he managed to whisper, "Heal."

The familiar blue sparks ran across his entire body, setting his bones back in place and mending his torn organs. Trouble closed his eyes, trying to regain focus. The world was sliding in and out of his field of vision; Trouble wished that the falling beam had knocked him out so that he wouldn't have to endure the nausea. Even though the building had collapsed into dust, so that it could no longer be counted as a human "dwelling," traces of magic still remained.

LEPRetrieval One was still so busy packing up the troll and trying to mind-wipe the huge crowds that had gathered around, they did not notice that their Captain was missing.

* * *

Butler." Artemis gestured to the fallen buildings all over Paris.

"I can see why one would despise trolls so much, sir," Butler muttered.

"These are not simply normal trolls – they are the underground species," Artemis said. "And wherever the trolls escape, the People go. You know what this means, don't you?" There was a manic gleam in his eyes.

The two both put on the reflective lenses. Even though Artemis had not found the Book yet, he still knew about the limited powers of the People. Including the _mesmer_.

It was then that Artemis gestured to a tiny pair of boots sticking out from underneath a pile of rubble. Inching away from the site, the two made their way over to the fallen building.

Artemis winked at Butler, and the pair made their way over to the site of action.

Sure enough, there was an elf, fallen in action.

* * *

Trouble nearly jumped in joy when he felt his body being relieved from the weight of the wood.

The bad news: it was not a member of his team.

It was a Mud Boy. And the biggest Mud Man he had ever seen.

D'Arvit. This was bad.

"Hello, fairy."

Even worse. They knew what he was. What if this human knew of magic? (But it was impossible – they had gone extinct before the People moved underground).

"Stand away, human child," he warned. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"I? On the contrary, I think that you are the one unacquainted with the facts." The little Mud Boy smiled - and boy, was it creepy.

Trouble's face drained of color. But he wasn't going to waste time here. He had one secret weapon left, even though most of his magic had gone.

Calling up what magic he had left (that last injury had drained him of all of his reserves), he invoked the _mesmer._ Repeating the standard lines taught back in the days still at the Academy, "_You saw nothing. There was no damage done. You will go back to your home and forget about this entire incident."_

To his shock, the Mud Boy smiled again. It was not a friendly smile. More like a "you are doomed no matter how fast you run" smile.

"I think not," he said, tapping his glasses.

D'Arvit. They were reflective lenses. The _mesmer_ only worked with direct eye contact.

He barely had time to react before the big Mud Man drew a pistol, and fired.

A needled dart buried itself in his forehead, and the last thing he saw before his world went black was a creepy smile that no Mud Boy should have been able to pull off.

That was even worse than a troll.

Trouble could have sworn he deserved a break today.

* * *

**A/N: Regarding Trouble Kelp's comment about extinction: **

**When the battle between the fairies and humans happened, the fairies lost. Some fairies went underground and became the People. Others stayed aboveground and became the house elves and the less competent fairies (like Lockhart's pixies).**

**The wizards only remember the fairies that stayed aboveground. The People, on the other hand, still remember the wizards, but believe them to be extinct (even though they were in reality only in hiding).**

***Mud Man Cardiff is a reference to Torchwood.**


	3. The Hostage

Butler narrowed his eyes at their fallen target.

Artemis' words broke into the silence.

"Butler?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Good work."

* * *

Walking a little closer to the little elf that they had captured, and making sure to meticulously pick his way around the path of debris (that was only a meter long, anyway) so that none of their prize (and his clothes) were damaged, Artemis carefully observed everything he could about the fairy.

Unlike the traditional drawings, this elf seemed quite modern – a sleek black uniform, quite similar to the human equivalent of the black operations forces. Judging by the little acorn pins and stripes on the lapel of the elf's uniform, Artemis judged that he and Butler had hit the jackpot indeed. This elf was probably a pretty high-ranking officer.

Artemis scanned the area again, as one could never be too sure of leaving no evidence. His efforts were rewarded when he noticed a matching helmet lying about two meters away from where Butler had shot down the elf.

"Fascinating."

Walking over to the helmet and approaching it from behind (Artemis wasn't stupid), he let his fingers roam lovingly over the sleek black material until he found the right button. A click and a little whirring noise, and the camera was off.

Fairy technology was quite amazing.

Looking around, no one had seen them.

"Quite anticlimactic, was it not?" Artemis asked. "Butler, you know what to do."

Butler nodded. Something else to lug across Paris, the Seine, and Wizarding Pont Louis-Philippe.

* * *

The rest of the LEPRetrieval team had finally finished up with what they thought was their last mind-wipe. The troll was already packed up and stuffed into an extra-large pod. The runaway pixie was handcuffed and still complaining. And all seemed well.

"Number One, reporting in, all accounted for," said Number One.

"Number Two, reporting in, all accounted for," said Number Two.

"Number Three, reporting in, all accounted for," said Number Three.

"Number Four, reporting in, all accounted for," said Number Four.

"Number Five, reporting in, all accounted for," said Number Five.

"Number Six, reporting in, all accounted for," said Number Six.

Then, there was an eerie silence.

"Number Seven, where are you? Please reply!" Number One (the newest addition to the elite team) yelled into the entire radio link, to general dismay. The surrounding members covered their large ears in dismay.

"You don't have to yell," Number Six snapped.

"Sorry, Lieutenant Basil, Sir," Number One said meekly, realizing his mistake.

"Wait," Number Two said. "Who's Number Seven?"

"That would be Captain Kelp, you newbie," scolded Number Four.

"Wait, so where's Captain Kelp?" Number Two asked.

"He was stationed behind that one restaurant," Number Five responded.

Lieutenant Basil, Number Six, looked at his companion in horror. All of the buildings in the area were pretty much destroyed.

Stopping his _mesmer_ activity, the LEPRetrieval second-in-command radioed his Captain. "Number Six to Number Seven, please reply." Nothing. "His radio's off. D'Arvit!"

"Finish up the mind-wipes," he ordered the rest of the team. "Captain Kelp is missing in action."

The only thing that they found, though, was the fallen acorn pins that had been ripped off the elf's uniform by the falling beam.

The remaining six members of LEPRetrieval One stared in shock.

"How are we going to tell Root?"

* * *

The commander in question was currently stewing away in his office, a noxious fungus cigar in one hand and a large stack of paperwork in the other.

He hated paperwork.

"Hey, Root, I think you'll want to see this," Foaly called.

And he hated annoying centaur technicians.

"What now?" the commander snapped in reply. "If it's another one of your silly inventions or jokes then I'd rather stay here, thanks."

"I'm serious!" the centaur protested.

"Well, well, well! Foaly being serious! Call the headlines!" Commander Root yelled sarcastically.

"No, really, this is serious!" Foaly yelled back.

"I don't have time for your games! Maybe if you were serious more often we wouldn't be having this conversation!" Root snapped angrily, stamping a paper more forcefully than regulations permitted. The dark red ink bled through the white paper of yet another painfully pathetic yet somehow extremely significant file.

"Commander, please!" Foaly said.

Commander Root sighed. He knew that Foaly _was_ being serious this time. Foaly only ever addressed him properly by his rank when there was a very concerning, life-threateningly dangerous situation going on. Grunting, the commander doused his cigar in the coffee cup of an unfortunate corporal passing by, and pushed himself up. "What?" he said, going into the technician room.

"It's Trouble Kelp. You know how he was sent off with LEPRetrieval One after that troll in Paris, right?" Foaly asked.

Root hated it when Foaly beat around the bush. "Yes, what of it?" he snarled impatiently.

"Look at this. This is the playback scene from his helmet cam." Foaly pressed the play arrow, fast-forwarding to the point where the captain landed on the ground.

"See here. He lands, he catches the runaway sprite, no problem, blah blah blah."

"There's something called a fast-forward button, pony boy. Now why don't you actually show me what's so important that you had to disrupt me?" Commander Root ordered. If this involved his very best LEPRetrieval elf...this would be awful. There was really no other word to describe it. Commander Root was not a very articulate man.

Foaly whinnied in annoyance, but did as he was told. "Okay, they're taking down the troll now. A structure falls, and Captain Kelp chooses to fire on the troll like the responsible hero he is instead of getting out of the way like a normal, sensible person would. His helmet is knocked off and lands face-down, so all we can see is wood and splinters here, but we can still hear what's going on, even though it's slightly muted."

Root cocked an eyebrow. "Fascinating. Unless he's dead, I'm not too concerned. Captain Kelp can take care of himself."

"Not in this case." Pressing the play button again, the centaur seemed genuinely worried. A bit of static, and then -

_"Hello, fairy." _The voice was distorted due to the background noise and bad transmission from the other electromagnetic radiation fields zooming around the area, but one could tell that it was high-pitched and childish.

It shouldn't have been scary, but the cold malice in the tone was like dripping poison. It sent shivers up the commander's spine.

_"Stand away, human child. You don't know what you're dealing with." _Root listened, dreading what would come next. So one of the Mud Man whelps had come by and known what he was. That would have been fine – human children had more imagination than their parents – if it had not been for the next phrase.

_"I? On the contrary, I think that you are the one unacquainted with the facts."_

This was not good. Definitely not good at all.

It wasn't just some deluded kid with a hyperactive imagination running into things he didn't know about. The child knew; he was possibly waiting…planning the entire incident.

Commander Root and Foaly listened as Captain Kelp attempted the _mesmer_.

_"You saw nothing. There was no damage done. You will go back to your home and forget about this entire incident." _It was the standard, repeated phrase, learned by everyone back at the Academy (and even little grade schoolers from before then).

"Surely he's got them now," Root thought aloud. But Foaly shook his head, his face visibly pale even through all of that horse hair.

_"I think not."_

There was a sharp click and a whoosh of air, and the Captain was silenced.

Trouble Kelp.

Silenced.

There were a few crunching noises, like footsteps, before the camera was taken out of the dirt. To their great inconvenience, whoever had picked up the helmet made sure to point it away from himself. Either that kid (or possible a grown Mud Man who had never managed to hit puberty) was lucky, or he was smart.

There was that high-pitched voice again. It was a little amused chuckle.

_"Fascinating."_

There was another click, and the camera and microphone turned off.

Oh, gods, this was an absolute catastrophe.

"What was _that_?" Root asked.

"That is what I would like to know," Foaly said. "Whoever that kid - or Mud Man - was...he seemed to know what he was doing." Almost like he was magical. But even if the magical Mud Men were still alive, they didn't know about the People.

Root was a mix of frightened, awed, and furious. "That Mud Boy is too smart for his own good. We need to take him down, and fast."

Foaly nodded in agreement.

"Well, I've traced Trouble's equipment, and the coordinates seem to lead to here. We can send out a team after him," Foaly said.

"We're not sending a team," Root said.

"Yeah, yeah – wait, what?"

"You heard me. Something like this, I'm going by myself. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with here."

Foaly's mouth dropped open in shock, before he snapped it shut and nodded dumbly.

* * *

Trouble woke up with a splitting headache. "Hangover" had been his first thought, until the events from yesterday came rushing back into his head.

The troll. The falling building. The injuries. And the Mud Men.

The Mud Men! They had caught him!

He, Captain Trouble Kelp, caught by a few lousy Mud Men!

What the - D'arvit - now this was just highly improbable.

He looked around him. He had been lying on a small cot, and surrounding him on all sides were perfect stone walls and one iron door. All of his things were gone, with the exception of his uniform. The tracker, his helmet, his wing pack, his guns, and even his text pad.

And the Book! His Book was gone!

Shooting up in horror, he pounded on the wall, the ground, the cot.

This wasn't some nightmare. It was real. He began hyperventilating. _Calm yourself_, Trouble, he told himself. _You're in shock_. Placing a hand on his chest, he waited until his heart and respiration rate slowed back to normal. There was no use in going mad over this. Just follow the regulations, taught back in the days of the Academy, and you'll be fine.

"Where am I?" he yelled.

Okay, maybe he was a little more crazy and claustrophobic than he first assumed he was.

A disembodied voice crackled to life above him. Trouble searched, but he could not see where the intercom or microphone or whatever the heck it was anywhere. "Hello, Captain."

They knew he was a Captain. How -

"Who are you?" he yelled back.

"Curious, aren't we? To answer your two questions, you are inside a cell, and I am a person." It was the high-pitched, dangerous sounding child from earlier.

"Yeah, that doesn't help!" Trouble yelled back. Normally, he would have appreciated the kid's sarcastic sense of humor (maybe because he was used to the same stuff from Foaly all the time), but he definitely didn't like the little Mud Whelp in this sort of situation. Perhaps because something about the kid's voice really put him off (and Trouble Kelp, being a military elf, did not like being put off). Or maybe it was because this was the same kid who had outsmarted the _mesmer_ from before somehow. And then kidnapped him and put him in a dungeon cell of some sort. Probably a combination of all three.

"I mean, what is your name, and the overall structure that you have put me in?"

"Tsk tsk, so impatient. For now, my name is unimportant to you, and you are in my dwelling. That is all."

Trouble was fuming. He only wanted a break, and now what? He was literally in a hostage situation. With a crazy Mud Boy. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing personal. I am certain your superiors will be able to handle this." What was this mud man…no, mud boy playing at?

"Tell me, or I shall break out of here, find you, and kill you myself," Trouble growled.

"Well, aren't you feisty. How about this: I, as the head of this house, forbid you, LEPRetrieval Captain Trouble Kelp, from leaving your current room and contacting anyone outside of my jurisdiction."

Trouble groaned. He had him there. Obviously, this human knew all of the rules. Now that he was in a human dwelling, he had to listen to all orders presented to him by the owners of the household, or forsake his magic. Having already experienced the punishment of breaking the magical law in that one incident on the Tern Islands during Captain Short's initiation with Commander Root, Trouble had no intention of throwing up on his boots ever again.

Not to mention, the order was loud and clear. There were no misunderstandings or loopholes that could be derived from that statement.

Trouble gasped. "How do you know my name?"

"Besides the fact that you have plastered onto a plastic tag that you proudly display on your uniform?"

In shock, Trouble's hands shot to his breast pocket where the familiar name tag rested. "But it's in…"

"You will find, Captain, that I am fluent in Gnommish and the associated runes."

Trouble groaned, and fell back onto the cot in a mock swoon. A Mud Man who knew all about the fairies, which was completely unfair.

He had stolen the Book and was fluent in Gnommish. Double kill.

Here he was, captured, with no way to escape, and had unwittingly betrayed the People.

It was definitely not his day.

Artemis watched the fairy react, going from shock and anger to submissiveness. He felt a bit bad about backing the fairy into a corner, but he convinced himself that this was necessary.

Rubbing his eyes, he groaned. There was going to be a reckoning for this.

* * *

He was truly amazed that his mother never bothered to check his luggage before they took the Floo network back to the Manor. From there, he and Butler simply smuggled their captured elf down into the dungeon cells and installed a few cameras and audio systems.

His thoughts were interrupted when Butler entered with the stolen fairy equipment that they had captured along with. "Where would you like these, sir?"

Artemis scanned the room, and gestured to the empty lab table. "There would be wonderful, Butler."

As Butler set the fairy technology down, Artemis asked, "How is Mother doing?"

"Lady Angeline is completely oblivious to this entire affair," was Butler's report.

Something flickered across the back of his mind. But he brushed it aside. "Good. Make sure she stays that way."

Butler nodded once. "Yes, sir." He left.

And Artemis was alone with his thoughts once more.

* * *

Decoding the Book had been quite easy when one had textbooks on Ancient Runes in the mansion library, two floors below.

Artemis was not sure if the fairies or wizards had taken the idea from each other, or come up with it together. It didn't matter, though – he now had all of the information he needed to make sure his plan succeeded.

The special powers that a fairy possessed, the rules they had to follow, the rituals they needed to perform – all of it was his.

Artemis sighed and began to examine the fairy technology they had confiscated from the captured elf. He had been lucky this time – this was a LEP elf, a member of the fairy police. Their technology was pretty much top-notch.

Pulling apart the helmet, Artemis was amazed at the sheer workings in the design. Fairy engineers were obviously the best in the world.

He could do so much with this.

Father would be so proud of him…


	4. Rooted in Deep

**I apologize for the late update. I've been rather busy recently, what with teachers assigning projects and essays and tests and having them due all around the same time period. Plus, AP season is coming up...so expect rather short chapters.**

* * *

"WHERE ARE YOU? SHOW YOURSELF!" Commander Root yelled.

He had followed the GPS signal from Captain Kelp's tracker, courtesy of Foaly, into a small cottage on the icy coast of Norway. Expecting to be confronted by a hostage situation, he instead found the said piece of equipment on a table in the middle of a completely empty room, save for a rickety table, a broken chair, and patches of mildew and lichens here and there.

There was also the scent of salty sea air, but not the healthy, clean kind. More like the musty stench of stagnant air that had been circulating around a closed, unused area for too long.

A closed, unused area.

Commander Root scanned the room once again. Obviously, this little shack had been untouched for a while, unless you counted arrived here before him to place Captain Kelp's tracker inside.

_"Commander Root, I was wondering when to expect you here,"_ a voice said.

Turning to the direction of the noise, Commander Root saw, instead of a speaking person, a crackling green fire that had sprung up out of nowhere. The speaker was using the fire to communicate somehow, but there was no head or sound system present. Commander Root wished he had paid more attention in chemistry class back in school. He had forgotten most of what he had learned in science in lieu of more important things, like how to handle guns and catch criminals and face psychotic Mud Men. That other stuff? That was Foaly's job.

Green fire was produced by burning copper salt, wasn't it? Yes, that was it. So that was why the fire was green. As to how the Mud Man was communicating _through_ the fire...well, Commander Root assumed that there was some sort of radio hidden in the wall somewhere.

Or maybe this was one aspect of Mud Man technology that he had not yet figured out. He wouldn't put it past this psychotic Mud Man - no, Mud _Boy_ - to have something that neither the pathetically corrupt and inefficient Mud Man government nor the People knew about.

"Who are you?" he bellowed.

_"Before I bring that to your concern, I would like you to look around and tell me what you see."_

What sort of sick game was this? Root didn't trust whoever was talking. The flames had distorted the voice somewhat, but intuition told him that this speaker and the human child that had captured the best LEPRetrieval anyone had seen in ages were the same. Nevertheless, he complied, and looked around.

With horror, he realized that he had just walked straight into a trap.

"D'Arvit!"

* * *

Artemis watched through the fire-call portal with amusement.

He had taken the Captain's tracker out of the country, to Norway, where it was less easy for the government (and his mother) to find out about his plans. Quite inconveniently, the underage Trace extended past the United Kingdom into Ireland even though the Ministry of Magic in Britain legally only had jurisdiction on that patch of land. The wizarding community on the British Isles had established seventeen as the legal age centuries ago, unfortunately, and nothing could change that.

But there was nothing like a well-planned ambush of technology and knowledge to compensate.

He could hear the commander swear loudly as the elf realized that he had been tricked. Artemis smirked to himself as he briefed Commander Root of his options.

As of now, the Book was truly his best friend.

* * *

Julius Root was absolutely furious. "D'Arvit, d'Arvit, d'Arvit!" he hissed repeatedly.

The entire room was masked with wires, so thin that they were near invisible. Each string of metal was made of pure silver, crisscrossing over the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and made thousands of intersections like a spider-web.

The moment he had entered and shut the door, the circuit had been completed, and Root had sealed his own fate. Quite literally, _sealed_ his own fate. All puns aside.

Silver was a anchoring substance to fairies. In dangerous dimensional leaps like time travel, it could potentially save a life and keep one's body from being sucked into another vortex. On the flip side, that meant that silver could also permanently anchor a fairy to a certain location when strung properly.

And in this case, it had been.

The Mud Boy had taken no chances. He had strung the wires in such a way so that there were no loopholes left open. Commander Root supposed that he had to give the Mud Boy some credit at least for doing his research, because only through very precise planning and calculation could someone - and a little Mud Boy at that - catch an experienced elf like him off-guard. As it was, though, he was too angry at the crafty little whelp and annoyed at his own stupidity to think about that.

With the metal all around him, Root found that he could not move anywhere outside of the cottage. He had literally walked right into a checkmate.

Angrily staring at the fire, he yelled, "What do you want?"

The voice chuckled. _"How touching, that you actually care. So many have asked me that, but I am afraid that now is not the time and place to answer."_

"You are sick," Root hissed. "Let me go."

_"I will, eventually."_ The awful child was actually enjoying this. What type of sociopath had raised this child? Or was he just born that way? Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. _"We will have a very pleasant talk, you and I, about the fate of your dear Captain."_

"If you've harmed a tip of my officer's pointy ears –"

_"**Your** officer? Oh dear, now we touch the sensitive side."_

Root was fuming. The voice continued. _"Perhaps you can comply with my…shall we say, requests. Or, perhaps, you can live in your new house, forever, if you prefer."_

Root was cornered and he knew it. This was a Hobson's choice. He doubted that he could try to break out - the wires were connected in an infinite loop. Because of this, he couldn't try to cut the wires and attempt to break the circuit, either - at least, not without violating some very important laws of magic.

"Don't try to sugar coat it, Mud Boy. What are your demands?" Root was admitting defeat, but he would be damned if he ever let his fiery, fighting mentality leave him.

The voice laughed._ "We shall find out, won't we?"_

"Stop playing around!" Root ordered. He wasn't expecting any obedience in this situation, though.

_"Very well. On the table, there should be a small bowl of green powder. Take some and throw it into the fire. I shall do the rest."_

_This had not better be another trap_, Root thought. It couldn't get any worse than this.

The flames shot up in emerald spikes, and the commander felt like the world was spinning, before he collapsed.

* * *

The Commander had landed quite ungracefully on the carpet of a human dwelling. It was some sort of study, with a desk and cases lined to the end with books all around the walls. Otherwise, it was empty except for a small boy sitting at the end of the desk, hands folded under his chin and a sinister grin on his face.

_The_ Mud Boy. The one that had given him so much trouble.

Trouble. Trouble Kelp. He could be in this building. His best officer, captured by a lowly human. And now, Root was, too.

"Good evening, Commander Root," he greeted pleasantly. "I hope you have had an agreeable trip."

Root scowled at him. Picking himself up off the floor, he dusted the soot off of his uniform. "A bit small for a Mud Boy, aren't we?"

Artemis smiled. "I have plenty of time to grow, but thank you for your concern." Compared to most fairies, Julius Root was fairly tall – a little taller than Artemis, even.

"Enough of this small talk. You have kidnapped one of my officers, ambushed me, and still expect me to negotiate peacefully with you, Mud Boy?" This was awful. He hadn't been outsmarted by just any Mud Man, or a Mud Boy, but a small, undersized one at that. He didn't know much about Mud Man height proportions, but this kid seemed extremely short for his age. It was embarrassing. "What was that, anyway?"

"Floo Powder," the boy answered simply, as if it was all of the explanation in the world.

* * *

Root frowned to himself.

What in the name of the gods was "flew powder"? Was it some sort of Mud Man mode of transport? He had learned about those ruddy airplanes and cars before, but never about fireplace travel. Perhaps this was another one of the little boy's inventions that he had cooked up with stolen technology. He made a mental note to tell Foaly to look that up later. Now was not the time or place to dawdle on Mud Man oddities.

Root was wondering if he should just shoot the boy right then and there, mind-wipe him, and run for it. But the boy was much older than he looked, apparently, for he said, "These talks shall remain diplomatic while you are here, Commander Root. This is an order – no violence. You shall remain here until I am satisfied with the results of our conference – this is my dwelling."

This Mud Boy was too smart. How did he even know all of the rules? "You win, Mud Boy. What do you want?"

The boy smiled. "Tell me, Commander, how much are you willing to pay for the safety of your officer?"

"What do you want?" Root snarled again.

"Perhaps you should turn off your communication first," the boy smiled. "I am afraid that those on the other end would not exactly convince you to comply."

Root groaned. But he did as he was told, and could hear Foaly swear on the other side of the connection.

"Very well. Now, what do you want?"

"Nothing much…just this," the human child said. He slid a piece of paper across the table to Root.

Root's eyes bulged.

"You cannot be serious!" he yelled. This did not faze the Mud Boy one bit.

"Oh, but I am. And I will be gracious enough to give you time to discuss this with your advisors. But be warned…break your end of the deal, and I will see to it that Captain Kelp does not see light ever again."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S CHALLENGE!**

**While I am studying for AP exams, you guys can help me buy some time in writing another chapter by participating in my guessing game!**

**What do you think Artemis wants from the fairies? Hint: It's not gold, since he already has the Philosopher's Stone. But it's definitely something really important. And it might be a little more obvious than I think it is.**


	5. Demands

**Apologies for the slow update. AP testing is FINALLY OVER! (for this year, anyway.) **

**Plus, my insect collection is FINALLY done. Pinning, labeling, organizing, all that jazz. I swear I got a tick in my eye from making all those labels. And making sure that the bugs were in good condition. If I ever develop cancer from all those benzene mothballs, well, I know exactly who to blame. *snort* _Bio teachers..._**

**Anyway, here are (some of) the results of last chapter's challenge. A lot of people got it right or at least partially right. There's still a lot more to this, though, so stay tuned. Only one part of Artemis' demands have been revealed in this chapter. The challenge is still open for those who want to guess another part of Artemis' demands.**

* * *

"YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!" Foaly shrieked hysterically.

Commander Root had not been allowed to leave the manor, although video communication was restored between him and the base. It still didn't help the situation at hand.

He scowled as he clamped his hands over his precious ears to avoid further damage to his auditory organs caused by Foaly's gods-awful upper register. Commander Root hadn't even known that grown males - and _centaurs_ at that - could hit such a high pitch. He doubted that even opera singers could do that.

But that was Foaly for you, especially when his precious technology was at stake.

"Listen, I know you're not very pleased about this - " Commander Root tried to say. You knew the situation was serious when _Commander Root_ was trying to be polite in order to appease _Foaly, _of all people.

The Council, of course, would be having a field day over this. After all, it _was _a hostage situation, and one with a Mud Boy who knew of their existence and all of their rules, at that. They would be going over this right now, trying to find a way around the rules.

"NOT VERY PLEASED?" Foaly yelped, and Commander Root found himself having to cover his ears again. Wincing, Commander Root looked across the room to glare at the Mud Boy to observe his reaction. Right now, giving the object of all of his hate and the cause of all his troubles a nasty death glare was the only thing that could make Root feel better.

People cringing under his death glare always made him feel better. More elevated. More powerful. But not in a bad way. Not like the crazy megalomaniacs like this kid who _enjoyed _lording over others and causing them pain and distress. His shrinking subordinates only reminded him that there were people in a worse mental state than he. Fear was always a bad thing - one of the worst dents you could make on your mind.

Nonetheless, Commander Root was not overly optimistic - he never was. If he had been expecting the Mud Boy to behave the same way as his lower ranking officers, it was a sign that he was slipping and that he should just hand in his letter of resignation right away. People like the Mud Boy always felt themselves one or two (or in this kid's case, ten) levels above everyone else. Commander Root prided himself on being a pretty good judge of character for someone who wasn't a genius or a prophet.

Thus, he wasn't surprised when, instead of being unnerved, the Mud Boy simply smiled back with that god(s) damned creepy smile of his.

The sick child was apparently finding the entire situation hilarious.

Foaly, on the other hand, continued to rant and scream and throw a tantrum. Typical Foaly.

"He wants blueprints to a TIME-STOP TOWER and a BIO-BOMB? NO WAY! ABSOLUTELY NEVER! NO LEP OFFICER IS WORTH THESE WEAPONS, Root, I'm SORRY!"

He knew that this would happen.

He couldn't let Trouble Kelp die, or whatever it was that the kid was planning to do with his best officer, but he couldn't give a Mud Boy this sort of terrorist power.

"What are you even planning to do with those things, anyway?" The centaur had finally calmed down. "Not that we're letting you have it; that's simply ridiculous. Anything BUT that."

The Mud Boy simply smiled. He hadn't even told them his name yet. "That is too bad, then. You will realize that I have two of your best men in my manor right now, and I could simply keep them here indefinitely." It was true.

The centaur was fuming. "I know your type, Mud Boy. All you have to be is more intellectually gifted than the rest of the population and suddenly you want to conquer the world."

"Conquer the world? And be forced to take the blame for the whining and suffering of my people forever? No, thank you, but I appreciate the offer – politics is not in my field of interest."

"Then what do you want?"

"Rest assured that while you would not agree with my use of this technology, I have no intention of harming another life," was the only reply. "At least...one that didn't deserve it."

* * *

_"At least...one that didn't deserve it."_

Foaly was in shock.

Foaly was hyperventilating.

Foaly was, for once, in danger of a heart attack as much as Julius Root.

Foaly paused the screen the video screen.

"Calm down, Foaly, calm down," he told himself. "Keep calm and carry on."

(Wasn't talking to yourself one of the signs of insanity?)

"OY! Argon! Cumulus! Get in here and have a look at this," Foaly called.

Immediately, the two psychologists rushed in, eager to have a look at the mad human genius. The centaur rewound the film, and then -

_"Conquer the world? And be forced to take the blame for the whining and suffering of my people forever? No, thank you, but I appreciate the offer – politics is not in my field of interest."_

_"Then what do you want?"_

_"Rest assured that while you would not agree with my use of this technology, I have no intention of harming another life. At least...one that didn't deserve it."_

After a while, Dr. Argon declared, "He's telling the truth."

"Or at least he's planning that as of now," said Professor Cumulus. "He might change his mind later."

The two began bickering loudly. Foaly let them talk, but when they started discussing various psychological conditions and referencing textbook quotations, he'd had enough.

"Shut up! We have a Mud Boy on the loose, who knows about the existence of the People and is trapping Commander Root and Captain Kelp in his house, and all you idiots care about is Frond's third general order?"

That quieted them down a bit.

"The question is, what do we do?"

* * *

Holly was having a bad day.

She sat at her desk, bored out of her mind. She wanted to fly, to see the air, to actually be _doing_ something to help the People. Even if it meant traffic duty.

But no, she had been demoted to desk duty. Again.

She hated sitting in one place, doing paperwork. Not getting any news about what was going on outside. For all she knew, her friends could be dying at the hands of a rampaging troll or chasing a gnome across Dublin, and she could do nothing about it except sit there and hope for the best.

Was Root ever going to let the Hamburg incident die down? Apparently not.

She prayed and prayed for any excuse to get up from her desk. The gods must have heard her at that moment, for the intercom beeped. "Captain Short, we need you." It was Foaly.

"Thank the gods," she muttered, abandoning the paperwork without a second thought.

"What's up, Foaly?" she asked. Upon further inspection, the atmosphere in the room was subdued and anxious. "And who's that?" She pointed to the screen, where the image of a young human – with an expression that was far beyond his age on his face – had been frozen.

"Holly, meet our worst fear."

"That Mud Boy? He looks creepy, but what's he got to do with this?"

Foaly was silent. "Nothing good."

Professor Cumulus and Doctor Argon had returned to their arguing. There were files and papers scattered everywhere. "Are you telling me this Mud Boy knows about us?"

Foaly nodded. "And all of our rules. And now he's holding Commander Root in his dwelling and has locked Captain Kelp up as a hostage somewhere."

Holly paled. "This is bad."

"I know."

"What are his demands?"

Foaly told her. Her eyes bulged, and her reaction was the same as Foaly's.

"You have got to be kidding me. We can't do this!"

Foaly sighed. "I know. We're stuck in a rut here: We can either forsake some of the most dangerous technology ever, or we can leave Trouble and Julius to be stuck in there forever."

Holly had an idea. "Can't we send someone like Mulch to break them out? He's already forsaken his magic."

Foaly shook his head. He cursed the many magical laws of the people as he told Holly, "They've both been personally forbidden to leave the dwelling, now that they've already entered. He's personally forbidden Root and Kelp to leave their current rooms for any reason, too. Even if we found a way in, Root and Kelp couldn't leave." The Mud Boy had them cornered there and he knew it. He was probably laughing his head off at their weaknesses this very moment. Foaly rolled his eyes. He was not used to being outsmarted – and by a Mud Boy at that.

"What if we destroyed the structure? Then it wouldn't count as a human dwelling, would it?" Holly suggested.

"We can't exactly take down this mansion. And we still don't know we're they're hiding Captain Kelp. We could potentially kill them in the process of bombing it or collapsing the structure," Foaly sighed. "That's the entire problem. Normally we'd just use his demands against him - using time-stop towers and a bio-bomb. But Root and Kelp are stuck in there, and doing that will definitely kill them. Even the People don't know a way out of the time-stop."

Holly knew that he was right. "We can still scout out the mansion, can't we? I mean, Mulch can't break Commander Root and Captain Kelp out, but he can certainly snoop around. There's got to be a weakness that we don't know about. Try to stall for time while we figure out what to do."

* * *

_Back in Fowl Manor_

The audio on their end crackled to life again. "Commander, still there?"

"Where else would I be?" The situation had not yet been resolved, and Root was still not free. The Mud Boy was still sitting on his end of the room, smiling serenely, as though he was enjoying a cup of tea rather than negotiating a ransom demand with fairies.

"Does he still want those blueprints to the towers?"

A quick look at the Mud Boy confirmed the answer. "Yep."

"Don't forget those of the bio-bomb," he drawled lazily from his chair.

Commander Root groaned and closed his eyes, kneading his forehead.

"Commander!" Root heard a voice that he had never been more glad to hear. It was Captain Short – one of the best, and while not perfect, the elfin commander had to admit that she was the best for the situation at hand.

"Captain Short. Just the elf we needed."

"Is there any way we are allowed to talk to Captain Kelp? Surely he must have a say in the matter."

Root looked at the Mud Boy. He seemed to think for a bit, before shaking his head. "Not now, at least. Once I let him go, feel free to talk to him all you want."

Holly gritted her teeth. "Look, Commander, do you really think your lives are worth providing this…this Mud Boy information on creating a time stop? The choice is yours."

Root didn't know what to say.

* * *

The situation underground wasn't much better.

The Fairy Council had quickly gotten involved, now that Root was discovered to be trapped as well.

After some debate, they had appointed a new acting commander to take charge of the situation and rescue Root and Kelp.

"Who is it?" Holly asked. Hopefully Commander Vinyaya. She was a good elf; she knew how to take care of things like this. Holly was seriously at a loss for ideas. She was still shocked that this kid found out about the People – and that Commander Root and Captain Kelp, their best LEP officers, were both at his mercy. Holly always looked up to them as her mentors and counted on them to get out of any situation logically.

"You won't like it," Foaly said.

"Oh for heaven's sake, stop beating around the bush and just tell me!"

Foaly sighed.

"It's Lieutenant Briar Cudgeon.

"…" Holly was speechless.

D'Arvit.

* * *

**A/N: While you're working on this old challenge of what else Artemis wants, have a go and guess on what Artemis plans to do with the time-stop tower and the bio-bomb.**


	6. The Cudgeon Wars

"All right. Here's the game plan. We send the troll in – and then he has to give us permission to come in and help him. We do so in exchange for Kelp and Root. It's that simple!" Cudgeon grinned, as if it was the most simple, foolproof plan in the world.

Holly was fuming. "You can't do this! A troll can kill people! _Commander _Root and _Captain_ Kelp could get hurt!"

Cudgeon shrugged. "None of my concern. That Mud Boy was going to kill Root and Kelp anyway. If he dies, then all of the rules he made up won't be effective anymore and we can just go in and let them go. Besides, if he takes his secret to the grave, then even better. It's one less Mud Man that knows of our existence."

Holly was not convinced.

She glared daggers at him. The impudent – arrrgh! She wanted to hit him right then and there, and to send all of his so-called "consequences" flying back at him. How dare he! But she held her temper, trying to convince him that _this was possibly the most idiotic, half-baked, cold-blooded idea she had ever seen anyone come up with in their life!_

And she had lived for eighty years, and during that time, had experienced much poor leadership. Before going to Commander Root's division, that is. The man was stubborn and had a hot temper (a bit like her, she thought sheepishly), but at least he knew what he was doing.

She tried to reign in her racing anger, and spoke again.

"With all _respect_, sir," she said, with just enough politeness in her tone to not get reprimanded for insubordinance, and just enough venom to show that she definitely was not agreeing with Cudgen, "the point of relieving a hostage situation is to get the hostages out _alive_."

Holly couldn't bear to think of such an awful fate. The Commander, no matter how harsh he was on her, was like a father figure to her. And Trouble Kelp was one of her best friends. Always patriotic, always fair, no matter what situation – he was never afraid to grant second chances. She had him to thank for her acceptance into Recon in the first place.

The acting commander seemed dismissive of her concerns. "I am certain that they can take care of themselves. Of course, if something happens, we'll always be ready. The position is open to any fairy of capability."

The nerve! The "acting" commander was "acting" as though Commander Root and Captain Kelp were simply any other replaceable personnel!

"What are you implying?" she growled.

He simply smiled at her. The idiot. The absolute idiot.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all, my dear Captain," he said.

Holly wanted to strangle someone. Preferably the dolt that was sitting in the Commander's chair.

He was even putting those dirty boots of his up on the Commander's desk! What rights did he have to this?

What right did he have to talk that way? He got a little bit of power, and what happened? He held it over everyone's head and abused it, that was what!

Why did the Council even appoint him in the first place? They couldn't have chosen any less competent being.

She opened her mouth to argue again, telling him that _no, this was NOT a good idea, _but it wasn't as if the self-absorbed fool would listen.

"Send up the troll," he ordered.

Holly glared. She was not going to take orders from this nobody – not if she had a say in it.

"No."

Cudgeon seemed surprised. He shouldn't have been. That only showed how clueless he was to other people, and the world in general. Her obstinacy was infamous throughout Recon. Not that she cared. She had saved more than one life that way before.

"Are you disobeying my direct orders, Captain Short?"

"Why, yes I am," she said sarcastically. "Finally caught that on, have you? Or were you so obsessed with actually having people listen to orders for the first time ever that you can't even notice someone's obvious opinion when it's right in front of your face?"

"Captain Short, please refrain from such disrespectful attitude. You will answer to me, regardless of what you think, because _the commander is always right!_"

He was using Commander Root's words, too! Who did this sludge head thing he was?

"Yeah, the Commander is always right! The Commander! As in Commander Root, the one who said those words! You're just a lowly lieutenant who thinks that he's a commander, who can't even come up with his own quotes –"

"Captain Short, I AM YOUR SUPERIOR!" he roared. "You will SHOW ME RESPECT!"

"Only if YOU earn it!" she snapped back.

"This is my last warning to you. Send up that troll, RIGHT NOW, or else –"

"You have no right. None whatsoever. I'm telling you right now, that this won't work!" Holly yelled.

By now, they were both red in the face, eyes blazing, and ready to throttle one another. Briar Cudgeon was the first to regain his cool.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You seem to forget your status in the chain of command here, Captain Short. While I am Commander, you will answer to me. And if you are disobedient, you can kiss your rank good-bye."

"Are you threatening me?" she hissed.

"And if I am? You don't have a say in my decisions. Now, ready the troll, or will I have to kick you out and send someone else to do the task?"

Captain Holly Short was torn, and hatred for Briar Cudgeon bubbled up inside of her. He was right, and she knew it – she was trapped.

On one hand, she could listen, release a troll into the manor, and endanger the life of all of the inhabitants – Mud Boy and LEP personnel alike.

Or, she could disobey Cudgeon, be dismissed from her position, and be even more helpless as a more submissive officer was ordered to take over the dirty job.

Sending in a troll! Even she could come up with better ideas than this. And to think that the Council had approved it!

"Fine," she snarled, turned on her heel, and marched out.

She would do it, because it had been a "direct order from the (acting) commander." But there was no one telling her that she couldn't warn the others of it.

* * *

Captain Holly Short passed down the order, and hurried to the communications room again, nearly knocking over a new cadet on the way with his coffee rounds and running into Foaly's flank. Both cursed at her at the same time, but she could care less.

"Foaly, I need to talk to the Commander now!" she yelled.

She picked herself up off the ground and rubbed her hip where she had landed on it. Tile floors really smarted. The cadet, who had spilled an entire tray of coffee because of Holly, was glaring at her, still picking up the shards of the mugs off the ground, but a returned glare from the Captain had silenced him. One look at her fuming face (and her insignias) could easily tell even the owners of the thickest skulls that she was not to be trifled with at this point.

Except for maybe Briar Cudgeon. That man beat all others at the top of the list.

"What's so important that you have to tell Julius?" the centaur asked. D'Arvit, he was making her job more difficult than it already was. She ground her teeth, trying to regain control – it was Cudgeon she was mad at, not Foaly. Foaly was just the technology consultant. Foaly was her friend. He was only trying to help.

"I'm warning him – they're sending a troll into the Mud Boy's house."

Foaly choked, then regained his composure and whistled through his teeth.

"You're kidding me, right?" he asked, although his heart was definitely not backing up that statement.

"Do I look like I am kidding?" Holly retorted. "Quit wasting time, Foaly. They made Cudgeon acting commander. You know what he's like."

The familiar face of Commander Root was on the screen again in less than five seconds.

* * *

Root felt that he had been waiting forever. Spending time with this Mud Boy was even more infuriating than listen to Foaly drabble on about his own brilliance.

Their pathetic stab at conversation had taken a turn for the worse. Truly, it was awful. The Mud Boy was dangerously smart from what he said, and the LEP commander was positive that what he said was only a small fraction of how much he actually knew.

It had ended up with the Mud Boy leaving the room, rather disgusted, and making the large Mud Man watch them instead. He was intimidating, sure, but at least he was not so irritating. On the contrary. He just loomed there, silently, like a huge shadow, with a gun in hand and a pensive frown on his face.

Maybe in another time or universe Commander Root could have respected this man. His military bearing was perfect and his discipline was probably ten times his strength. This giant Mud Man was not like the usual, brainless morons with all muscle and no mind - he was probably not as deviously clever as that little Mud Boy, true, but he was far from stupid. On the contrary, he was probably one of the smartest fighters Commander Root had seen, from the way he positioned himself.

His arms and legs were tucked inwards, giving him more balance, but arranged in such a way so that they could easily reach any location in minimal time. The same could be said for where he had stationed himself inside the room - not smack dab in the middle, because that would leave himself open, which was one of the silliest mistakes any man or fairy could make - but off to the side a little bit, so that he was both shielded easily and yet could make his way around the desk quite rapidly.

If only the rest of his troops were this good.

Commander Root supposed that the Mud Boy was not egotistical enough to hire a worthless goon that only knew how to take orders - he was probably smart enough to know that a bodyguard that knew what he was doing was better. Unless the boy had just told the giant man how to stand and where to position himself. Which was unlikely, because the kid looked like a schemer, not a fighter. At most, he knew _theoretically _how to fight, which was nothing close to the real thing.

Because if that kid knew how to fight, too, then god forbid, they were all dead.

And that thought was way too depressing, even for Julius Root.

The computer buzzed to life again.

"Commander Root!"

Finally.

"Captain Short," he greeted. "Any progress?"

From her expression, though, he knew that the answer would not be good. Her face was flushed, her eyebrows were drawn together, and she seemed very vexed and aggravated. He hadn't seen her like this since the Hamburg Incident (something that Root was still slightly miffed about), although it had been more out of anger at herself than actual righteous anger.

"If you count going _backwards_ as progress, then yes!" she growled.

"What have they done now?" Root sighed.

She huffed a few times, trying to regain her composure. "It's the Council. They've appointed, of all people, Briar Cudgeon as acting commander. That worthless piece of troll dung is actually –"

"Calm down, Captain! What's the news?" Root interrupted impatiently. "What's he planning to do? I'm sure his policies might seem harsh to you, but he _does_ know a good deal about hostage situations." He knew Captain Short and Lieutenant Cudgeon had never gotten along – the latter elf was rather pompous and a social climber, while the former was quite lion-hearted and did not mind breaking the rules for the greater good, but this was overreacting. It wasn't his job to settle office disputes.

She held her breath and spoke again. "They're going to send a troll into the manor."

* * *

A troll. A TROLL. Never mind that bit about overreacting, then.

* * *

"What?" he gasped.

"Exactly."

"WHAT WERE THOSE FOOLS THINKING? A TROLL?" Root could feel his blood pressure working up again. Damn his cardiologist, he would give anything for a nice, warm fungus cigar right now.

"And there's nothing I can do!" she was close to sobbing, but the girl was too proud to show it.

"Didn't you try to convince him otherwise?"

"If I had been successful, I wouldn't be calling you now, Commander! You know Cudgeon – a little power goes to his head, and he refuses to listen to anybody with good advice."

Root rubbed his temples. "This is insane. D'Arvit!"

"It's already being sent up. I'm warning you now, Commander! Tell Captain Kelp, tell the Mud Boy, tell anyone – I'm not going to let a bunch of people die at the hands of a troll just because Cudgeon was stupid!" Captain Short yelled. "I had to warn you - you have to take cover now unless you want to be troll meat - "

Like that wasn't obvious.

* * *

Butler's eyes widened.

A troll. They had sent in a troll.

He had to warn Artemis.

Before he could make his move, however, an explosive crash resounded from the floor below.

A furious roar rumbled through the manor, and Butler knew he was too late.

Suddenly, a scream rocketed through the house, the one person Butler and Artemis had forgotten about –

Lady Angeline!

* * *

**A/N: If there's one thing Artemis is ever going to get grounded for, it's this. :)**


	7. Expect the Unexpected

_Flashback_

Artemis always knew that the conversation with the fairies would end up like this – of course they would be unwilling to give up their greatest secrets and weapons.

Eventually, though, one of them would have to give in. And he certainly wouldn't be the first.

* * *

Artemis had been walking to the tracker room, as he had unofficially dubbed it for lack of a more creative name, to find out if there were any news updates on his father. It was a simple modification of the previous tracker room - computers lined up along all edges of the wall, attached to a private power supply, hacking into satellites and government, private, and public computers all over the world.

Only now, Artemis had incorporated magic into the equation, and all of a sudden everything made more sense.

Logging into the computer, Artemis quickly surveyed all of the screens that had the duty of finding his father. He had managed to input his father's magical signature into the machine as data, in hopes that a match would be picked up somewhere.

If only the wizards had spent their time doing genetic research and furthered their knowledge of science. Just because they had magic didn't mean they had to depend entirely on it. Magic and science were meant to work together - magic couldn't be explained without science, and certain aspects of science couldn't be explained without magic.

If the wizards had done this, there wouldn't have been so much discrimination and civil war...and this wouldn't have happened to his father. Or maybe it would have. Artemis still knew very little about the kidnappers, or who they worked for, or why exactly they wanted his father. Revenge? Gold? Power?

It was a foolproof plan. It should have been a foolproof plan. Magical signatures were specialized patterns of energy, determined genetically as a more complex version of the macrohistocompatibility complex, just as the possession of magic was. People who possessed the gene for magic (actually several genes, for possession of magic was determined through polygenic inheritance, which would explain the case of muggle-borns and squibs more thoroughly) automatically emitted magical energy, and the pattern was based on the MHC. It was like emitting a portion of your own DNA.

But try as he might, nothing had shown up. It was as if his father had been made out of dark matter.

His father wasn't dead, because he couldn't be. Artemis knew it. He could _feel_ it. And while _feelings_ were not a very strong virtue associated with Artemis Fowl II, he did not lack them entirely. He was a man of science, and yet sometimes there were some instincts that he could just not ignore.

His father's kidnappers must have been very intelligent people. Perhaps there were spells that were strong enough to mask a magical signature. He would have to research that.

Sighing, he logged out again, letting the programs run in the background, and was about to return to the study (hopefully Mother wouldn't barge in while he was in there and see the elfin commander sitting on the opposite side) when –

A rumble resonated throughout the manor. The ground shook, and splinters and dust flew everywhere.

Was it an earthquake? No, it couldn't have been. Ireland wasn't located very close to any major faults, and in any event, Artemis had a good enough knowledge of tectonic plates and technology to be able to calculate when, where, and how strong of an earthquake would occur.

It was probably the fairies – they wouldn't give up without a fight.

Abandoning rational thought, Artemis rushed out onto the inner balcony toward the source of disruption, rather than back to the study. What he saw both terrified and amused him at the same time. How that worked, Artemis still did not understand – perhaps the irony in the entire situation made up for its severity.

(He really had to take another look at his own sense of humor - it had an annoying tendency of showing up in the most dire situations.)

A troll. They had sent in a troll.

* * *

Artemis sucked in a breath of air.

A very large breath of air.

He thought he had had his fair share of trolls already. There was that one that Quirrell let loose in the Great Hall, the one in the third-floor corridor, the one in Paris, and now…this one in his home.

The good news was, at least he knew how to take down a troll.

The bad news was, the Trace would detect the magic he used outside of school…and he couldn't really let that get on his record, not if there were already some…questionable…things about him on there. That would provoke some unwanted questioning and most likely an investigation.

And the last thing Artemis needed was an investigation of the Manor...

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother's screams, coupled with Juliet's, resounded through the manor.

"Master Artemis!" Thank whatever deities existed, Butler was here.

"Butler! There's a troll, and my mother –" For heaven's sake, what was he saying? His mind was forming perfectly coherent thoughts, and yet his mouth refused to cooperate.

_But Mother, and Juliet –_

He didn't mind much if they sent a troll after him; Artemis was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And Juliet, while not a magical being, was just as well-trained in the arts of self-defense as Butler, and was capable enough of taking care of herself; she probably could not kill a troll by herself but she could definitely run. But when his Mother, who never had a part in his schemes – she was always innocent, she always taught him to be a good, moral person, and he had disregarded that advice for greed bestowed on him by his father and his own selfishness – was endangered as well, what was he to do?

Perhaps he had bitten off a little more than he could chew regarding these fairies –

No. He could do anything. He was simply panicking, associating an event with semi-traumatic memories, that was all.

Butler interrupted him. "Yes, yes, I know, I heard them say that they were going to send a troll in. One of their officers contacted the elf commander and warned us, even though she was technically not allowed to."

Some respect for the People formed inside of him. He'd have to thank them later, but for now –

Echoes of more screams ricocheted off the stone walls.

"We are off, old friend – we must subdue our troll first."

He would worry about the consequences later.

* * *

Bounding down the stairs, taking two steps at a time (Artemis Fowl, always two steps ahead, he joked to himself), he rushed into the adjoining kitchen, and, sure enough, an enormous troll (underground species, he noted) was ripping all objects within its reach to shreds with its enormous talons.

His mother was there –

"Artemis Fowl!" she shrieked. "What are you doing here? Why is this – this _troll_ – inside of our house?"

"I've no idea, Mother!" he lied through his teeth. Some things were better left unsaid…it would lead to more complications, something he needed less of as of now, considering the beast tearing its way through his home. "I suppose our family is not the most popular…"

Angeline shook her head sorrowfully. "We'll talk about this later. Well, get your act together, son! This monster isn't going to get rid of itself!"

And in a sudden bout of courage that Artemis had to admit he'd never seen in his mother before, she drew her own wand and sent an obscure curse at the beast. As soon as the indigo jet of light hit the beast, it was bound from head to toe in glowing wire.

Well. That was one aspect of his mother he had never seen before.

Although he shouldn't have been surprised - his mother _was _a grown witch, after all.

Artemis still felt guilty, but now, it was less of getting his mother involved in something that was not at all her fault, and more of underestimating his mother's ability to take care of herself. Perhaps it was those two years of her madness at the time when Artemis was developing the most mentally and economically that led him to view her as a weaker woman.

Well, at least Artemis knew now to never underestimate anyone, least of all his own mother. Great men fear their own mothers most, after all.

Struggling against the magical binds, the troll screeched and howled. Artemis watched his mother use the momentary distraction to send another spell at the troll. A flash of blue light lit up the room, and the troll keeled over, unconscious. Before it hit the ground, however, Angeline sent a cushioning charm under its head, preventing its weight from cracking the floorboards any more than it already had.

Life is full of surprises.

Artemis didn't know what to do, choosing instead to stand there like a deer in the headlights while his mother levitated the bound troll out of the way and began to point her wand at the various property damage, muttering, "Reparo" under her breath. After a few minutes, the broken floorboards, shattered vases, and the like had been mended, and the damaged portion of the house was now returned to its previous state.

It was almost as if nothing had happened at all, Artemis mused. Whatever spells his mother had just used to incapacitate the underground troll species that the People had sent in were a lot more quiet and efficient than setting it on fire. Artemis made a mental note to ask his mother to teach him that later. Preferably when she had calmed down.

His mother, had, by then, regained her breath and composure and regarded the troll with a look of utter disgust. "Filth," she hissed. "Disgusting sacks of muck. Scourges of the earth." She then proceeded to use some more very derogatory terms that Artemis didn't even know existed.

Ah, wizard vocabulary.

Angeline then turned on her son. "Don't stare at me like that, Artemis. It is unbecoming of a Fowl to underestimate people – especially his own mother. I was born a Lestrange, you know – I've had plenty of decent training in the magical arts."

"Yes, Mother," Artemis said, bowing his head sheepishly.

She glared at him. "Now, then. Would you care to explain how this troll entered the house?"

Artemis shook his head.

It doesn't take a child genius to know that you're screwed.

Especially when you just witnessed your angry mother singlehandedly take down a 20-foot-tall troll.

* * *

His mother was still glaring at him and tapping her foot.

"So I should call the Ministry then?"

Artemis was trapped, true, but he always had a backup plan. "I'm not sure officials would be pleased with what else they found in this house."

Angeline sighed, and lowered her wand. "Artemis, please swear to me that you had nothing to do with this."

"I swear, Mother." It was technically true. The People had sent the troll in, not he.

Angeline stared at him calculatingly. Artemis stared back innocently. If such a word could be used to describe the criminal mastermind.

Finally, she relented. "Go to your room. Butler, Juliet, please remain to help clean up this mess while I go to London to contact the Department of Regulations for Magical Creatures. I'll be up to talk to you again _later_." Her stress of the last word could mean nothing good.

With that, she turned and left.

Artemis watched her go.

What was that common phrase that he heard the elfin Commander use so many times again?

Oh yes – "D'Arvit."

* * *

_Haven City, Police Plaza_

"You're a bit late, Captain Short," a mocking voice said behind her.

Holly spun around and was met face-to-face, _again_, with that despicable excuse for a fairy named Briar Cudgeon.

"How so?" she spat.

"Surely you realize, that warning Commander Root would not do you any good," he purred. Holly felt like slapping him. From the way Foaly neighed indignantly and stamped his hooves behind her, the centaur felt the same way.

Cudgeon laughed. "The troll is already on its way. In a few moments that Mud Brat will be whining for help – or dead. And I will get the recognition I deserve," he said, lovingly rubbing the acorns that deemed him a commander.

"Well, you're too late, because I've already sent the message," Holly said, triumphantly.

"Is that Lieutenant Cudgeon you're talking to, Captain Short?" a voice crackled over the screen, and a well-known, beet-red face appeared on the screen. "Because I'd like to have a word with him. Or two."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Yes, Commander. Why don't_ you_ go chew him out? Because he definitely wouldn't listen to good advice from me when he hears it." So saying, she spun on her heel and left, and smirked at Briar Cudgeon's sudden realization that the video communicator was still on.

She laughed as the real Commander's screaming drowned out Cudgeon's weak protests.

"You are an IGNORANT BLOCKHEAD!" Root yelled. "SENDING IN A TROLL! By the gods, have you no COMMON SENSE WHATSOEVER, CUDGEON? And not even CONSULTING ANYONE? SOMEONE, with more EXPERIENCE, perhaps, like ME?"

"You should be _thankful, _Commander," the other argued. "In a few moments, that Mud Boy will be dead and you will be free!"

"DEAD? FREE? This is a TROLL we are talking about! Were you BORN with squashed flies in your brain, or did you suffer a traumatic brain injury in line of duty? I expected better from you, _Cudgeon_ –"

"Commander, don't deny that you're glad the Mud Boy is –" Cudgeon protested.

"– Is what, Lieutenant?" a voice cut in, dangerously cold and dripping with venom. "You know, it is really a bad idea to insult a person in a language that they know."

It was the Mud Boy. Again. And he was very much alive. A bit disgruntled, certainly, but there was not a scratch on his face.

"D'Arvit."

* * *

Artemis was extremely displeased. "You know, I thought that fairies were supposed to be more intelligent than, in your words, the Mud Men? And yet, you have simply left me here, highly inconvenienced and all the more angry because of it. Your People will thank you later."

The commander snarled, "It wasn't my fault. I'm not at the base, Mud Boy, and I wasn't the one giving these orders. You can thank that troll on the screen for that troll in your house."

Artemis nodded. He knew that what the Commander was saying was true – he didn't blame the elf for something that he didn't do. But that didn't mean that he couldn't hold it over the fairies as a whole, because that was a good weapon that he could use against them.

"Well, then, you should have removed that troll from authority, hmmm? Lieutenant Cudgeon, was it?"

The other elf on the screen spluttered and started. "How did you –?"

"You will find, good sir, that I know everything. Including how to read ranks, rates, and name tags in Gnommish."

"You're the Mud Boy."

"I see that I have become quite well-known in the People's circles."

Cudgeon (what type of name was that, anyway?) seemed close to either exploding or fainting. Or a combination of both. If that were even possible.

"By the way," Artemis continued, "I was most dissatisfied with your method of handling this situation. It has caused quite a shock to my mother and much property damage. And before you ask – no, you will not get the troll back. I suppose it will be taken..._elsewhere_."

"I guess that means that this contract is terminated, _acting commander_," a female voice said.

Artemis could not help but laugh. It was not a very nice laugh.

"Well, now that we are finished sorting out our complications in leadership, I would like to call another meeting. And please, I would prefer that no more invasions of my property are involved."

* * *

**A/N: All right, so now we see Angeline being, well...badass...for the first time ever. You never hear much about her in the books, so I wanted to give her some sort of purpose besides being an overly motherly figure and a foil to Artemis. **

**My logic is, this is the lady who gave birth to _Artemis Fowl_. She's got to have at least something in her. After all, half of Artemis' DNA comes from her.**


	8. The Ransom

**Hello all,**

**Sorry for the late update; I've had finals to study for. Just a heads up, my updates won't be so fast anymore - probably around every two to two and a half weeks instead of one. If you have really strict "Asian parents" (and I'm sorry if I offended anyone due to this stereotype, but in my case it's actually true) you would understand, but I have to "get ahead" of everyone in my year this summer so I can be "the top of the top because those kids are all super smart with parents even stricter than us" (no joke - that's what they actually said). So. **

**But don't worry, I will try to make my updates as regular as possible and I promise to see through this series out to the very end. **

**Meanwhile, please review and give me suggestions on how to improve because even though I have the plot planned out, I still need plenty of advice on details. So please, if you have a great idea that you want to see in my story, feel free to suggest it. Reviews make my updates a whole lot faster, so for those of you that have actually come back with advice, you were helping me keep up with my update schedule.**

* * *

"What do we do now, Foaly?" Holly asked.

"The Council has already approved this, Holly – he's asking for blueprints to time-stop towers and a bio-bomb, and that's what we'll use."

"You're calling a time-stop on him," Holly deadpanned.

"Pretty much."

"But what about the Commander and Captain Kelp? You know very well that even we don't know how to escape the time stop," Holly pointed out, concerned.

Foaly nodded. "Already thought of that. We just need to give Fowl some fake blueprints – enough to look convincing, but when assembled, won't work. That way, even if he _does_ manage to escape somehow, which is completely impossible, by the way, he won't be able to do anything. After he lets Root and Kelp go, we'll send in the squad with the time stop. He dies, and then we can retrieve the technology he stole. And before you argue, it's the best plan we could come up with, and it's definitely better than the troll."

Holly sighed.

"All right. Let's call him again."

* * *

_Fowl Manor_

Artemis heard the familiar beep of the contact screen yet again. "Yes?"

"Are you sure about keeping the hostages?" said the female elf. She was another Captain; her name was Holly Short.

"Until my demands are answered, yes."

"You want blueprints to those towers and a bio-bomb, correct?" the centaur asked.

"That is correct."

"All right, you win, Mud Boy. You'll get the blueprints to the towers –"

"– and the bio-bomb –"

"– yes, that too. Under the condition that you let Captain Kelp and Commander Root leave right after."

"I would not dream of doing any less."

Artemis gave them his infamous vampire smirk. It wasn't as if the People could trust him any less.

* * *

Trouble Kelp was currently languishing in the cell, counting the cracks in the ceiling.

"Zero," he murmured. "Still zero."

For the first time in his entire career (excluding that other time on the Tern Islands when the crazy Turnball Root had kidnapped him and Holly Short – but that was a completely different story altogether) he felt entirely helpless.

How was he supposed to be able to do anything if he couldn't even leave his stupid cell? This was awful.

"Enjoying yourself, Captain Kelp?"

Trouble spun around and came face to face with the Mud Boy again. "You!"

Amazing, actually – the boy had entered the cell without making a single sound. And he was flanked by the large one. Not good. If the large one hadn't been there he would have punched the lights out of that little Mud Whelp by now, the rules of the Book be damned. He didn't look so tough.

The Mud Brat probably found his helpless situation amusing. "Yes, me."

"What do you want with me now?" Trouble asked. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

The boy smiled mysteriously. "Would it please you to know that your dear People have paid for your release?"

Trouble was stunned. "What?" he exclaimed angrily.

The boy sighed. "I suppose that means no. You know, most prisoners would be happy at the prospect of freedom."

"You made the People _pay_ to get me out?" Trouble asked, horrified. He was supposed to be there to _protect_ the People, not drain their tax money and hostage funds!

"And your Commander as well. He made such a brave attempt to rescue you…though it failed, I'm afraid," the Mud Whelp said in what was supposed to be an apologetic tone. It wasn't very convincing at all.

Trouble's head was spinning. Being isolated in a cell like this for days (except for the occasional plate of salad brought down by that one girl that had refused to bring him the acorns - they all had been well informed about the rules of the fairies and the Book, much to Trouble's inconvenience and chagrin) made one extremely ignorant to current events. "What did you force them to pay?" He dreaded the answer.

"Nothing much."

"How much is 'nothing much'?"

"Ah, but now is not the time for idle talk. Perhaps you will join me in a nice tour of the outside world? You seem to be rather lightheaded."

"Spare me the sugar talk and answer the question, Mud Boy," Trouble Kelp snapped. He was not in the mood to negotiate with the human after languishing for an indefinite period of time in a block of concrete and stone.

"You should be quite pleased that you are considered to be worth so much, Captain Kelp. But, in case you were wondering, it was simply a few blueprints…on building a biological bomb and time-stop towers that secured your release."

Blueprints to time-stop towers? And a biological bomb? Trouble felt weak.

The People had sacrificed their greatest weapons to this madman – no, boy – for him. It wasn't supposed to be that way. It was supposed to be the other way around! – he was supposed to be sacrificing himself for _them_!

"What is your problem?" he snarled.

"I'm sorry?" The brat was feigning ignorance now.

"Do you take delight in others' suffering? You are sick, you know that?"

He seemed to have hit a nerve there, because the Mud Boy's face twitched in anger – just for a millisecond, but Trouble, as a member of LEPRetrieval, had been trained to notice these things – before he steeled himself back into the infuriatingly cold mask.

"Yes, I have been told so before."

Trouble glared at him with all his might. But the Mud Boy just smiled again. He probably wasn't going to slip up and show any other emotion anytime soon, unless you counted smugness, stoicism, arrogance, victoriousness, or calculating.

"Captain Kelp, I would really appreciate it if you did not waste my time here. Your People are waiting for you – or do you want their payment to be in vain?" The boy asked impatiently.

The elf captain bit his lip, but decided that the best course of action would be to follow the Mud Boy…and maybe get a punch in or something – the large one's back was turned -

It was as if the Mud Boy could read his mind. "Before you choose to take any rash action, by the way, there will be no violence in this house. Did you know that a large portion of my property was already damaged due to your People?"

D'Arvit. He was planning to put a lot of love into that punch, too. "Oh, really? Well, good for them!"

"Not exactly. You see, the damage had been caused by a troll sent into the manor grounds. Needless to say, it was rather unhappy, as was I."

Wait – a _troll_? "Did you say a troll?" Kelp spluttered.

"Indeed, I did. Quite inconveniently, much of the time that could have gone into negotiating your release was instead spent subduing the creature, and left your side at a disadvantage."

The boy had subdued a troll. A troll. Trouble didn't even want to bother asking how. That feat was already scary enough in itself. It took an entire team of LEP members armed with high-power blasters just to take down one. That kid probably had accomplices, like the big one.

But even a troll sounded a bit far-fetched. And even the big one couldn't take down a _troll_! The kid was playing with his mind – that had to be it!

"You liar. Commander Root would never do something like that!" Trouble said angrily.

"Oh, the Commander wouldn't, I'm sure. I've met him actually – rather nasty temper, but decent overall. (That sounded like Beetroot, all right). No, he's in the Manor right now."

Trouble was shocked. The Commander, captured by this Mud Boy? They were smarter (or luckier) than he had originally thought. "In the Manor? Right now?"

The Brat nodded. "Yes. Would you like to meet him? Currently, he is in my study, talking to your superiors still down at the base."

So the Commander had gotten captured, too, in an attempt to get him out. Was this never going to end?

"Wait…if the Commander is in the Manor, then who sent the supposed troll?"

"A lovely elf by the name of Briar Cudgeon was promoted to the rank of acting commander in Julius Root's absence."

Trouble was horrified. "They chose _Cudgeon_, of all people?"

"You seem to know of him, too, then? From the reactions of Commander Root and several others that I have had the pleasure of meeting (over a computer screen), he seemed to be quite infamous in your circles. Granted, it was not the most wise choice the Fairy Council could have taken."

All right, Trouble found himself agreeing with the Mud Boy for once. Not that he was ever going to let it show.

"What about my equipment? And –" but the Mud Boy already knew what he was talking about.

"Your equipment, unfortunately, is currently in pieces on an assembly table. Your Book, on the other hand, is still intact, fortunately for you, and will be returned once the payment is complete."

Damn that Mud Boy and his perceptiveness.

"Well, if you are done, then we shall be off. Follow me, and please, do not wander off…this house is more dangerous than one may think."

_Yeah, _Trouble agreed wholeheartedly as they left the cell. _The eerie attitude of the Mud Boy sets me off enough, let alone the house. Come to think of it, there's something fishy around this area – like some other energy. It feels like magic, but a different kind of magic...unnatural...too temperamental for a living thing to channel alone...always changing, too quickly and too often. Whatever it is, it's not good. It sends tingles up my spine – and fairy intuition is never wrong._

For some reason, the Mud Boy decided to take the long way around – they went through a bunch of darker hallways and passages.

Trouble's temper flared again. It was as if the scrawny human _wanted _to rile him up – scratch that, the scrawny human _was _riling him up on purpose. His patience was already on a short fuse, and the kid was making it worse each second that he took an extra step. If the big Mud Man hadn't been here, Trouble would have wrung the Mud Boy's scrawny little neck right then and now in his own dwelling, and curse the consequences of the laws of magic.

"Why don't we just take the stairs? You were just accusing me five minutes ago of wasting time – and here you are, zigzagging around your entire dwelling – which is too big, anyway, even for a Mud Whelp like you – instead of just going in one straight line!" he fumed.

But the Mud Boy just smiled infuriatingly. "Oh, no particular reason. I just wanted to give a guest a tour of the home, is that so wrong?"

"When the 'guest' is a hostage and the 'tour' is killing time, yes, yes it is so wrong," Trouble muttered. But he followed them anyway because the big one was prodding him in the back.

* * *

Holly had insisted she be the one to deliver the blueprints, to make sure that the Mud Boy didn't try anything funny. She didn't trust him – no one did. Of course the People were going to "keep" their end of the bargain, but that didn't mean that they had to be polite about it.

"Open up, Mud Boy! We've got the blueprints – now let the hostages go."

"Come in through the left second-story window, and try not to be seen."

What was wrong with him? Was walking through the front door too much to ask? But Holly did as she was told.

"Right, Mud Boy. Blueprints here. Where are Commander Root and Captain Kelp?"

"Thank you. Now, as for your officers, they are right here – all is perfectly in order." As promised, there was the Commander and the Captain. They were stripped of their supplies and weapons, and rather disgruntled, but they were there, perfectly healthy.

Scowling, Holly handed over the envelope. "I hope you're happy now. Are you going to let them go?"

Root and Kelp seemed shocked that she had handed over the tribute without complaint. "What are you doing, Short?" Kelp yelled. "It's not worth it!"

"Don't make this more difficult. It's your lives at stake here. After the troll, we thought that the kid could just go blow himself up for all this is worth."

"Thank you," the boy said, taking the package. He stared at it for a while, before deciding that it would probably be a good idea to check the blueprints and make sure that they looked all in order. Holly wondered if he would fall for the double-cross. No - if he had known what the blueprints were supposed to look like he wouldn't need them. Unless he could somehow spot a mistake or read minds.

What she didn't expect was for a weird alarm to sound and for the boy to go rushing out without a second thought.

* * *

**A/N: In case you're confused, Artemis was forcing Trouble to go on a detour because he didn't want him to see the magical moving paintings scattered around the house. The fairies have heard of "magical Mud Men", though they think that the wizards have died out (because the wizards moved into hiding just like the People). Artemis does not tell them, because magic can be used to his advantage.**

**If you want to see a full-size cover of my story, go to my gallery at:**

**hypertext transfer protocol colon slash slash karatemaster101 dot deviantart dot company slash gallery slash**

**(For those who don't get it, put a period in place of "dot", shorten company to com, and replace "slash" with a "/". Stupid fanfiction. Won't let us put links. ): )**


	9. A Change of Plans

**Thank you for being so patient, everyone. An extra special thanks to those who reviewed and gave me advice on improving my writing. I believe that my writing has become much more engaging between the time when I first started this series up until now due to the great Fanfiction community.**

**Now on to the story.**

* * *

Artemis was staring at the innocent-looking folder that the other elf captain had brought him.

It was probably a fake. The People wouldn't give up so easily. They were probably going to fool him, and destroy the entire property once he let the Commander and the Captain go, into the reach of safety. If they were sincere, however, then he would not exactly have a foolproof method of telling.

And Mother would be back anytime soon. This was going to be more complicated than he had originally planned.

But no matter – even the best of plans need to be altered occasionally according to the current scenario.

A long, muted, static beep disrupted Artemis from his musings.

It was coming from the computer room...after all this time...but no, it couldn't be...

"What was that, Mud Boy?" Captain Short asked. "Please don't tell me it's another plot to destroy the People or conquer the world or whatever it is that crazy humans like you like to do."

"It's nothing of the sort," he snarled. "It's..."

"Well? What is it?" Captain Kelp interrupted. Artemis could tell that the elf's bad mood was becoming worse. It was truly strange; all of the People that he had encountered so far seemed to have chronic bad moods. It must have been the weather. That, however, was of little importance to him at the moment.

"It is an alarm - please, forgive my rudeness," he said, steeling himself to his regular stoic state.

And he turned his back on the fairies, ignoring their shocked looks, and rushed - no, _walked calmly_, because Artemis Fowl never rushed, lest he lose his perfectly composed mask and accidentally show himself to be a little overly enthusiastic about something - out of the room.

His heart was beating, quite quickly, and he hadn't felt so much emotion threatening to disrupt his mental state in years. He allowed the fairies in the room no time to see his weakness. Before they had time to react, he was already rushing out of the study, past the empty walls that once housed the portraits of his ancestors, past the landing where the troll had been sent, towards the only hope he had left and the only hope he had ever known.

Artemis had once brushed ridiculous notions such as hope and luck off his shoulder and crushed it underneath his perfectly polished shoes, but now, he was seriously reconsidering this take on life.

He rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was not being deceived. But the evidence was crystal clear. He stared in shock at the computer screen. After all this time...

The computer screen was flashing green - green for a one hundred percent match to the magical signature of Artemis Fowl the First.

* * *

"Sir, are you all right?" Butler asked, walking in. After Artemis had run off without another word, not even bothering to open the package containing the blueprints, Butler had given the command for the fairies to stay put and followed him. Whatever distracted his young charge from the end of such a great achievement - robbing the People of their most deadly technology - must have been very important.

"I am afraid that you quite heavily offended the fairies. They did bring you the payment, after all, and you just ran off on them without even giving the blueprints a second glance."

Artemis frowned. "I could care less about that right now. I can always determine how to control time later. Look at this, Butler."

The bodyguard regarded the screen in wonder. "I don't believe it…"

The missing head of the Fowl family and fortune was definitely there – conditions unknown – but definitely there.

Artemis nodded. "Under normal circumstances, I would not have, either. However, a magical signature is one thing that we know to be foolproof – no one can fake one. Not unless the wizards have somehow figured out genetic engineering, something that is highly unlikely as they are still technologically in the Medieval times. We cannot hesitate, Butler. We must find him immediately, before he is hidden or moved. Father may be well and alive now, but if we wait for me to complete my magical education...this will not do."

"Are you certain, Artemis?" It was very unbecoming of his principal to rush into things so unplanned.

"Absolutely certain, Butler – can't you see? This could be our only chance to rescue him. He _is_ my father, after all." For a second there, Artemis looked just like a kid. A vulnerable, ordinary child who missed his father. Not some juvenile criminal mastermind.

No. He was simply a child. He was just eleven-going-on-to-twelve. One that had been forced to grow up alone too quickly, with nothing but a bodyguard, his bodyguard's equally tough sister, an insane mother, an immeasurable intellect, and an uncrushable ego.

Nevertheless, Butler felt he had to warn Artemis of just what he was getting himself into. The Butlers may have been Muggles, but they knew plenty about the Wizarding world.

"Wizarding Murmansk is as notorious in Russia as Knockturn Alley is in England. Even though I am not a wizard, I have heard the name many times – and none of them mentioned anything good about it. The sheer cold is good enough to keep the city isolated from any types of prying magical authority, leaving many of its inhabitants to perform more shady practices without surveillance or regulation," Butler explained.

"Well, that is perfectly fine. It means that we can get away with 'shady practices without surveillance or regulation' as well," the boy said dismissively, so unbecoming of his normally logical character. Although his ruthlessness and deviousness was still the same.

"Do you even have a plan, sir?"

Artemis regarded him pensively. "Not now, but I assure you, by the time we reach the study again, I will."

Butler could only hope that he was right.

* * *

His father was alive. His father was alive. His father was alive.

And Artemis knew where his father was.

The signal was faint, but it was still there. One of the many satellites that he had hacked picked up energy radiating from the Arctic Circle – Murmansk, to be exact.

Murmansk. The congregation center for dark wizards in Eastern Europe (though Professor Dumbledore _had_ said something about this one forest in Albania…but no matter).

His father must have been a powerful wizard, to still radiate enough energy to penetrate whatever magical enforcements there were even after nearly two long years of capture. He was a strong man; he was calling to Artemis for help now. To let him down now would be the utmost failure.

Artemis sorrowfully realized that for the ten years his father had been around, he had never truly known the man.

He saw him as a role model, a businessman, a friendly competitor, but never a father, and never a wizard.

Before all of this, the notion of a severe man like his father believing in magic was ludicrous. Even now, it still seemed so. He knew that Artemis Fowl I had kept magic a secret to protect him, being from a targeted line of purely magical blood. Artemis still couldn't put a finger on what was bothering him about the man.

_It's my father, _he repeated inside his head, like an ongoing mantra. _It's my father. And he needs me._

Right now, Artemis had two options. He mulled them over carefully.

On one hand, he had the fairies to make a deal with. If the time-stop was successful, it would be a powerful arsenal against the men who had captured his father. He already had the Philosopher's Stone – if he figured out how to use it, then he would have all the money he needed to create the device. The downside was that it would take years of secrecy. He could survive it, but would his father?

This led to option two: On the other hand, he had family, still there, waiting for him. He had few supplies, barely any knowledge (much compared to the rest of the first-years, but nearly none compared to whoever he was going up against). To go now would be a fool's errand. It was a rash, bold action, with no carefully formulated strategy, that could fall apart at any moment and endanger his life, his father's life, and Butler as well.

If he waited, his father would either be lost again or die.

If he went now, he would probably die, but there was always the chance that Lady Luck would smile upon him again.

This was not the best of choices.

"Master Artemis, what are we going to do about Lady Angeline?" Butler cut into his thoughts.

Merlin – he had forgotten all about his mother. She was probably on her way back from the Ministry by now. He was surprised that she hadn't found out about his escapade yet.

His mother, ever since she had recovered from her madness, had tried to set him on a straight path. She had taught him about society, about the community, about his family, and about magic. Artemis felt that he was betraying her trust, but it was all for the greater good. If she found out that he had kidnapped and ransomed, not one, but two fairies, and well-known members of the Lower Elements Police, she would probably throw a fit. And kill him. And then bring him back to life, and kill him again. Without giving him a reason to explain what his motives were.

After witnessing his mother fight a troll with nothing but a wand (and two very frightening-sounding spells that chilled even Artemis), he was not very keen on being on the receiving end of her anger.

Least of all when she discovered what he was up to.

Artemis chose option number two.

* * *

"I know what your plan is."

They looked at him, bewildered.

"The LEP are trying to swindle me, aren't they? Once I get these blueprints and let the Captain and Commander go, they'll destroy the entire house and everyone else who they suspect knows of the People and retrieve those papers. Isn't that right?"

"D'Arvit," Foaly muttered, having watched the entire scene play out on camera. That kid _was _too smart for his own good.

Kelp and Root looked at Short, who hung her head sheepishly. He had them cornered. No one could lie to him.

"It was Foaly's idea," she mumbled.

Artemis nodded. For some reason, he was not angry. Perhaps it was because he was right – that the People _were_ planning to cheat him. Or perhaps it was because he would have tried to do the same thing in such a situation.

Or, maybe, Artemis did not have the _time_ to be angry, not when his father's life was at stake. Of course, his father's life had been at the hands of gamblers ever since his capture nearly two years ago, but now that Artemis could actually do something about it…

"If our negotiations still stand, however, then would you like to hear my proposal?"

They couldn't exactly deny it.

* * *

The Mud Boy brandished the folder. "As you can see, this folder (supposedly) contains the greatest technological secrets of the fairy world. I have not yet opened it. But, I have changed my mind as it being the only option for your freedom."

"What do you want? Another piece of technology?" Commander Root asked. This Mud Boy was so not worth it…

Surprisingly, he shook his head. "I want help."

It seemed like a simple enough phrase.

But this was a deranged Mud Boy.

"What _sort_ of help?" Commander Root asked suspiciously.

Commander Root had been in the business for quite a few centuries, and he had never, not once, been in a situation like this. Captured by a human – a human who knew what he was doing. And the human in question was still a kid. One that had gone from blackmail and ransoming to asking for help.

Well - asking as in terms of gunboat diplomacy, but still - Root suspected that this was the closest thing this kid had ever done in terms of a friendly request. The Mud Boy was probably the type to force, manipulate, and take, or a combination of all of the above.

The child was quite temperamental, and, in the Commander's opinion, precariously unpredictable. He had literally switched sides within less than a minute. One moment, he wanted some of the most dangerous magical technology in the world, and, after that little beeping incident (he still had no clue what that was), was asking for _help_ from the very people he had kidnapped and was ransoming?

He had gone from some evil, raving madman lunatic to a civil, logical, negotiable...mud man - kid - something.

Then again, he was smart. Judging from Captain Short's reaction, the People had been planning to dupe him this entire time. Root sighed. That was definitely their bad habit, especially when dealing with humans. But this Mud Boy knew too much to be caught off guard.

"It concerns my father and a…shall we say, unknown terrorist group in Murmansk."

"Murmansk? As in the Russian city on the Arctic Circle?"

"The very same."

"You've got to be mad, Mud Boy! Fairies and the cold do not go well together. I'd have thought, that with all those brains, you would have thought of that," Root thundered.

"Cold and humans do not go too well together, either, but you don't see me complaining." He had to give the kid a little bit of credit for that statement.

"You are seriously asking the very people who regard you as a threat for help?" Trouble Kelp asked incredulously. Root looked at the young officer. He was a good kid – great minds think alike.

"Would you rather that I kept the blueprints to some of the world's most dangerous technology? Oh, and if they happen to be fakes, rest assured that I _will _simply have to improve of them and make them more dangerous than intended."

That was disturbing, but Root wouldn't put it past the Mud Boy to somehow succeed.

Apparently Foaly thought the same. "This is ridiculous."

"This is a deal between the People and me," the boy said. "You know but a fraction of the potential power I hold over you. All I am asking is that you help me save my father, and I will retract my demands and free your top two officers - and considering that Captain Short is in my house, I could very well make it three."

Scratch that about a civil deal. This kid was as manipulative and cruel as ever. Root didn't give two shots about his daddy issues.

Captain Short looked at him curiously. "All right, so maybe helping you rescue your father How can we trust you? How do you expect us to give you a chance? What if this is just another trap?"

The boy's eyes pored through them all coldly. "In a situation like this? I never joke."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter took a really long time to write. I kept having awful writer's block because even though I knew what to do in my head for the plot, I had no clue how to put it down on paper. **

**So, thank you to everyone for being patient with me. It was difficult and I'm afraid that some parts turned out slightly awkward because I was trying too hard to squeeze my ideas out into words.**


	10. Freudian Excuses

**Thank you for being patient for this next chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it.**

**And sorry for the slow plot buildup - the real action should start next chapter. **

**(Reviews help me update faster.)**

* * *

Trouble cleared his throat nervously. He hated being unsure, but considering their current situation, he had no choice but to depend on the Commander's final say. He really did have no idea what to do. No one had ever taught them how to deal with some crazy boy genius back at the Academy. "Errrhm…so, where to next, Commander?"

Once again, the boy had them cornered.

Root cocked an eyebrow. "Where was it you said, Mud Boy? Murmansk?"

The boy nodded. "We should really start moving, unless you want to wait for my mother to return."

Mother? "What about your mother?" Trouble asked. Admittedly, they had not given much thought about the Mud Boy's parents. But Trouble supposed he had to come from somewhere...Although the theory that the Mud Boy was not really an living human at all but actually a robot made by aliens from outer space didn't seem too far-fetched at this point. Maybe the large one was some sort of intergalactic troll. Just because fairies lived underground didn't mean that they never dreamed about unidentified flying objects in the sky.

All right, maybe that was just Trouble Kelp, but _still..._

"Oh, nothing. I suppose I was partially lying about the troll, because she was the main person involved in incapacitating it," the boy said with a smirk.

D'Arvit.

So this kid had a crazy badass mother as well as an inhumanely tall bodyguard? This was not fair.

Commander Root was fuming. "I suppose we _should _get moving, then."

* * *

Holly, on the other hand, was shocked. But she refused to let go of this. How could Commander Root and Captain Kelp just agree like that?

"What if this is just all another big lie? We don't even know who you are!" she pointed out.

The Mud Boy stared at her. Was it just her, or did he have a terrible habit of staring at people? Because whatever it was, it was creepy. He had those type of eyes that just bored into you. If there was some sort of contest for staring, he would win, hands down. In fact, he'd probably sweep the even. A gold medal for one eye and a silver medal for the other.

"I will tell you when I see fit," the Mud Boy hissed. "If you help me rescue my father, I will let you go, return the (probably fake) blueprints and some of your confiscated equipment, and pretend that this never happened."

(It was quite unfortunate that Holly was too angry to notice the little loophole - that the boy had simply said _some_, not _all_, of the confiscated equipment.)

She glared at him. The blueprints were useless – Foaly had told her that. But the freedom of Commander Root and Captain Kelp was just as important – and the Mud Boy probably knew about their plot anyway.

"Will you keep the People a secret?" she asked suspiciously.

His chin went up indignantly. "I have no reason to divulge this information."

"And if there comes time for a reason, what will you do?" she snapped.

"What reason is there? Everything I know that the world doesn't is an advantage to me. I am a 'greedy Mud Man', surely you know that," he said mockingly, throwing the People's own quote back at them, earning an exasperated groan from Root, Trouble, and Foaly over the intercom.

"We still want insurance," Holly insisted. She had been on the job for long enough to know about people like that Mud Boy. "You have to give us a secret in exchange – a big enough secret that we will keep to ensure you keep your end of the bargain. After what you've done, or tried to do at least, how can we trust you?"

"Fair enough. But I can't tell you – I must show you, when we get to Murmansk. Time is of essence," he said. "We must move now; every second we spend in foolish conversation is another second my father is freezing in the arctic. Shall we make this deal?"

And for the first time in centuries, a fairy and a human shook hands.

Albeit tentatively.

Very, very tentatively.

* * *

Artemis felt that he was sacrificing a bit much on his part of the agreement – but anything to get the fairies to cooperate with finding his father.

Then again, the fairies had also been extremely helpful, even donating some of their other equipment. He would have to research the moon belt and the cam-foil later. Even though there were spells that could pretty much accomplish the same thing, it was still helpful, especially in the case when he couldn't use magic, or when magic was useless against a greater enemy. Hopefully he wouldn't experience any of that anytime soon.

He had to admit, he definitely could not do this on his own. If they were Death Eaters from another age, then he would have to be extremely careful. If it was just the Mafiya (which he doubted) then things would be slightly easier, but not by much.

There was a slight twinge of…what was it? Remorse? in his heart, but he brushed it aside. Everything was for his father. He could always keep up his studies another time. Now, there was no need for much more thinking. Artemis buried his head in his hands, and tried his best to construct a plan, any type of plan, that would be useful when they would confront their enemies.

In the currently turbulent state of his mind (When had he sunk so low to have allowed something as simple as shock consume his mind? He had always regarded these disorders to be for those of weaker mentality…), however, he could draw nothing but blanks.

_Calm yourself. You are a genius. Think clearly and don't let your mind wander._

Not that saying so to himself helped. Artemis tried his best to think, but he kept running in circles, ending back up at his family…and Father.

His mother would probably be home by now…how would she react if she saw that he was missing? As was Butler? What if he was killed in this pursuit and never got a chance to tell her good-bye?

_No, no Artemis! Don't think about idiotic "what ifs." If you actually think of a PLAN instead, then none of what you fear may happen will happen._

"How are you feeling, sir?" Butler asked. Quite conveniently, the man knew the signs of when his mind was acting up well enough to distract him.

They were currently aboard a fairy vessel heading to Murmansk with Commander Root, Captain Kelp, and Captain Short. After more screeching from Foaly the centaur, they LEP had finally relented and allowed Artemis and Butler access. Artemis took note of the technology and structure of the lava craft. It was quite ingenious, actually – shaped aerodynamically like a tear, it operated on subterranean energy alone.

Fairy technology was quite useful when one was not yet old enough to Apparate.

Back to Butler's question. "A bit stressed, but otherwise reasonably well," he answered truthfully, but choosing his words wisely to appease his somewhat overly protective bodyguard nonetheless.

If all went well, their group of five (plus the disembodied presence of the centaur technician, whose voice was accompanying them as central backup and advice) would arrive in Murmansk by nightfall. It was the full moon, too.

Everything was simple thus far – they would disembark, in a rather isolated area, where the fairies could perform their Ritual. Then, they would look for his father, rescue him, and bring him back to Ireland. Afterwards, he would return the blueprints and whatever else it was that he promised.

It was a foolproof outline, really – the middle part about finding and rescuing his father needed some more detail and fine adjustment, but otherwise…

The real question was when he would tell the People about the wizards. He had promised them insurance against their secret, and they would potentially be going up against magical humans anyway. They would be useless if they were caught unaware. And besides, Artemis felt that he didn't have the heart to cheat them for some reason. He had the potential to break his part of the agreement, and yet his conscience would not let him. The People did not break their promises – and their promise was to rescue his father.

It was his father. All of it, for him.

Besides, the fairies weren't exactly that terrible.

"Hey, Mud Boy. I've got a question," Captain Kelp yelled.

Insulting, maybe, but not terrible.

* * *

"Yes?" the Mud Boy said.

Trouble Kelp was still rather miffed at being captured by this brat and being forced to go on a rescue mission in Russia, of all places. He would have gone anywhere else, but Murmansk?

Five things he hated about Murmansk:

1. It was cold.

2. It was cold.

3. There was radiation everywhere. That meant that the fairies couldn't shield properly, even if they could complete their Ritual (the Mud Brat had promised them that they could complete their Ritual once they disembarked - obviously, for him: he "needed" them to be at full potential for his plans to work, but there was nothing like using your own magic) because the radiation suits got in the way.

4. The Mud Brat's father was there.

5. Repeat numbers 1 and 2.

Speaking of number 4…

"Your father, Mud Boy. Is he anything like you?" Trouble Kelp asked sullenly.

The Mud Boy looked a bit surprised. Point for him, then. Trouble whooped silently on the inside.

"That's a strange question. Why do you ask?" the Mud Boy said in return, cautiously.

"Well, you're no friend to the People," Trouble challenged. "What if he turns up just like you? What if he wants to destroy us and steal our things too?"

It took the Mud Boy forever to answer.

He finally choked out, "My father is a noble man. The idea of harming another creature would be…repugnant to him. He was a p- was born into high status, but was always fair to those of…lesser station…even though it meant isolation and disdain from his social class as well."

What was he about to call his father, anyway? Trouble noticed that he was about to say "p" something, but bit his lip right after, seeming a bit angry at himself for that slip of tongue. He didn't press, though, because there were more important things to discuss at hand.

"Yeah?" Trouble asked. "So what happened to you, Mud Boy?"

Again, he is silent for an unusually long time.

"If you are talking about what I just did…it was a mistake on my part. I never meant for you to be in any danger – I suppose I underestimated what the People would do to get you out – I was simply threatening to keep you imprisoned indefinitely to get the blueprints that I wanted. I was going to use them to save my father – but I guess it's useless now, huh?"

Was this actually sincerity from the Mud Brat? Trouble decided to save his judgment for later.

"What's so special about these Mud Men that you actually have to steal fairy technology to defeat? Can't you just hire some sort of hit team – or whatever it is that you Mud Men do?"

The boy sighed. "Not exactly. I am not sure about the nature of the organization that kidnapped by father – and I thought to be better safe than sorry."

"Why is your father even stuck there in the first place?"

"I don't know the full details." With that, the Mud Boy looked angry and quickly turned away.

Trouble knew that the Mud Boy knew more than he was letting on, but he decided to drop the matter for the time being. It wasn't as if the Mud Boy was going to say any more than he just did – in fact, he probably showed more sincerity in that one conversation than he had for however long he had lived up until this point.

As for his father...well, considering how this kid had been raised, he probably wasn't any better. The kid just didn't want to believe it. But that wasn't Trouble Kelp's problem. It wasn't his job to get in the way of some crazy genius Mud Brat's delusions.

Trouble observed the Mud Boy carefully. There was no doubt that he was still very young - even for a Mud Man. His age would have been more obvious, if it hadn't been for the permanently thoughtful - no, not thoughtful; more like _devious_ or _plotting_ - look in his eyes. His eyes had dark circles underneath them from staying up too late - most likely because he was busy making more of his evil plans. And when he wasn't smiling creepily his lips were locked in a perpetual frown.

The boy looked more like an old, grouchy, middle-aged corporate executive stuck in a child's body than an actual child his age.

Speaking of which...

"How old are you, anyway?" Trouble finally broke the silence, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He seemed uncomfortable answering, again. Finally, he muttered something under his breath. " 'h tern elf n set 'mr."

"What was that, Mud Boy?" Commander Root asked.

"I said, I turn twelve in September."

Twelve. That Mud Boy was twelve – no, not even. It was still summer.

The kid was still eleven.

Eleven!

That was an _infant_, even for Mud Men. All right, maybe not, but he was still a lot younger than expected. Trouble had been pushing for maybe a teenager. Or a young adult. A very short one, but then again, it wasn't as if the fairies could judge.

"They're starting younger and younger each time," the commander growled under his breath.


	11. The First Winter War

**Hello all,**

**I sincerely apologize for my rather late update. I had problems with my computer and my Internet was going on and off this entire month...**

**Anyway, here's the action-filled chapter I promised! **

**WARNING: Some scenes may not be for the faint of heart. Hopefully reading about a few gory fighting details does not affect you as much as watching it in a movie.**

* * *

_Somewhere in the Arctic Circle_

Two Russian men were sitting in a run-down shack, sipping hot tea from a flask.

The shack – for that was what it was, a shack, as it could not be qualified as anything even close to a house – seemed as if it were on the verge of falling over – it was no bigger than an outhouse from the early 19th century in Tennessee.

The boards had been hastily nailed together by someone who obviously did not know how to use a hammer properly, as none of the nails were performing their jobs as they should. A large number were bent, many others had missed their mark altogether and had purposelessly been shoved through the middle of the wooden boards, a majority carried both of these traits, and all of them were so rusty it was a miracle they hadn't dissoved into iron oxide powder yet.

There was no door, unless you could count an jagged hole punched in one of the sides with a few two-by-fours sloppily stacked up against it a proper door.

The wood was depressingly dry and old on the side facing the wind – chips were literally jumping off, and it was the perfect consistency for kindling in a Boy Scout fire starter kit. On the side sheltered from the freezing arctic air, moss and fungi plastered itself over the surface in their desperate search for shelter from the relentless breath of Boreas, like a soft spongy wallpaper.

The shingles on the roof were in no better shape. They were bent and curled and had been glued or nailed on as carelessly as the rest of the shack. Many were in the process of falling off, and due to the angle of the roof and the curling of the tiles, seemed to actually be jumping off. A few were already lying at the base of the shack, though most of their lost relatives had already been blown away by the wind and snows many years ago. Actually, leaving that shack was probably for their own benefit. One would be hard-pressed to find a worse occupation than being a member of the makeup of this shack.

Those fallen planks would make good woodchips and food for the scavengers of the arctic.

Also made of the same material as the sad walls, it was amazing that it had not caved in under the weight of the Russian winter snows from the previous year. Considering the state of the shack itself, who knew how long or old this shack had been standing here.

In fact, it was amazing that the shack hadn't fallen over in the cool summer breeze yet. The corner of the shack was teetering precariously on one edge, on a rather steep, rugged slope covered in lichen and permafrost. The old wood groaned and shrieked, and it was by a gross defiance of the laws of physics and pure, simple logic that the building was not lying sideways already.

The shack stood out quite awkwardly against the flat landscape, and yet it its awkwardness it seemed to fit in perfectly, as if it had been there since the dawn of time. Somehow, its ugliness managed to make up for its ill-fitting position, which blended it it with the simple yet beautiful enough landscape.

Of course, if one entered the shack, it would be a different scene altogether.

* * *

For one, the inside was considerably larger than the outside. It was a single room, still, but definitely enough to warrant a house, or at least a very nice apartment, compared to the sorry excuse for a bunch of haphazardly placed planks of cheap wood as seen from the outside. There were two rather soft and comfortable-looking armchairs seated around a fireplace, even though there was no chimney visible from the outside of the shack, and a nice, circular panoramic window that gave the two men inside a perfect 360-degree view of the landscape outside, even though the shack definitely had no glass.

"You idiot! It's your fault we're freezing to death out here in this putrid Muggle trash zone." the first yelled. He was quite tall, but also extremely thin and lanky. His dark, stringy hair hung limply from beneath his fur cap, and his thin moustache drooped down his face over his wrinkled, sagging, dark skin, giving him the appearance of an anorexic walrus. He had two small, beady eyes, which were always darting around suspiciously and quickly.

Compared to his much more burly and stocky companion, who seemed to have taken all of the fat meant for the two of them, he was a fragile twig, and yet he seemed to be the one giving the orders. The fat man, unlike his more shrewd watch partner, sported a pair of dull, piggy, watery eyes, both of which seemed content with resting upon the same spot in front of him for a very long time.

"Our task was very simple. Renew the wards around the prisoner every year. But no, the great Poliakoff, who is just as useless as his son, forgets to put up the wards and now we're out on watch, freezing in the middle of nowhere, to make sure that none of the damned trackers that they definitely have floating around have come. Honestly. My grandmother has better memory than you," the thin man grumbled.

"It's not that bad. Quit whining. We could be stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of the winter without any magic," the other, large one protested weakly, gesturing around the room. It was rather difficult for him, as both of the armchairs were the exact same size, and the thinner man had been the one to get them. It had taken him several seconds to be able to squeeze himself onto the cushion, and would probably take even longer to get back out again.

"And if we were? What would you say? Those Fowls, always crawling about. I'm sure one of their 'informants' have picked up a disturbance in this area by now." Scowling, the thin man took a none-too-gentle swig from the flask and nearly burned his tongue. He set the container down, swearing.

"I don't get why Fowl's so important that Karkaroff's been keeping him around for so long," the big one muttered.

"How should I know?" the first man snarled. "Maybe they got tangled up in that Lord thingy in Britain. Always knew that those damned Anglo-Saxon wizards were trouble. But this is our job, and we're getting paid for it. You screwing up doesn't exactly make things any easier."

The fat man rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're just going to sit here whining –" but the other man had slapped him and shushed him again.

"Shut up! Look over there. What do you see?" said the thin man, pointing out the window.

"I see a troll and four kids." This earned him another slap.

"I'm serious!" the thin man hissed.

The fat man rubbed his arm where he had been slapped. "All right, I see a really big man and four kids. Happy?"

"NO! Look at that big man. Who do you think he is?"

"A Muggle, that's for sure. He's carrying one of their little exploding contraptions –"

"– Good lord, you really are an idiot! What type of Muggle is that big?"

"A Butler, duh." Suddenly, the second man's eyes widened at what he just said. "Oh…"

"And where there's a Butler," the first man growled.

"There's a Fowl," the other completed, pointing at the dark-haired child walking behind the Butler.

Both men smirked devilishly and drew their wands.

* * *

They had disembarked in a rather remote area far from the bustling city.

"All right, I want everyone armed and dangerous. Including you, Mud Boy, if those skinny wrists of yours can support a weapon," Commander Root growled at him.

At least the fairies were keeping their side of the deal. It made Artemis feel worse about kidnapping them in the first place.

"This is the only unmanned terminal close to your destination. Right now, we are about twenty klicks north of Murmansk," Captain Short reported.

"What's Foaly got on the weather?" Captain Kelp asked.

"On the bright side, we won't be freezing to death out here. Weather's in the forties because it's nighttime, with a four percent chance of rain. Be glad that it's the middle of summer, and all we have to trudge through is this carpet of lichen and mud, because if we went at any other time of year, you'd be up to your neck in snow," Captain Short replied.

Violent gales were still howling through the barren terrain, however. At least everyone came prepared with nice, thick windbreakers.

"I'll take the lead," Butler said. Artemis didn't bother to argue. He took shelter from the wind behind the great man's form. The rest of the fairies lined up behind him in height order, starting with Commander Root, then Captain Kelp, and finally Captain Short.

"So what's the plan, Mud Boy?"

"We have to get to Murmansk first. If we're careful enough, we won't attract attention – or be noticed at all. I'll have to figure things out from there," he admitted sheepishly.

As they trudged on, Artemis tried to think about what he was going to tell the People.

His father's signature came from Murmansk, true, but where in Murmansk?

"Can you contact Foaly?" he asked.

Captain Kelp grumbled but did as he was told. "Pony boy. What's up?"

_"Ha-ha. Very funny."_

There was connection. That was good. Artemis had been initially afraid that there would be no connection due to the weather and overall radiation concentration.

"Can you find a match for the energy pattern samples I gave you?" He called them that because he was not sure how to inform them that the "energy patterns" were actually magical signatures.

_"I'm running a search right now. It's actually not in the center of Murmansk, but a little bit outside of the Bay of Kola. I tried to zoom in, but then some other thing blocking it."_

"What 'other thing'?"

_"It's a different energy pattern. I don't know how to explain it, but it's really weird. It's constantly changing – not acting in a simple, repeating pattern like other types of energy. The only other thing I've seen that looks like it is magic. Except that the magic we know isn't as unpredictable as this one. There's another patch right in front of you, too, and it looks the same, but I can't exactly tell what's going on from here."_

Magic? There was another patch in front of them?

Oh, Merlin, this was not good –

Butler apparently understood this, too, because he yelled, "Everyone down!" not a moment too soon. Almost immediately, two bright jets of scarlet light shot above their heads.

"What in the name of Frond –?" he heard the elf commander ask. Before he could finish, however, the Commander had been hit with a stunning spell, and collapsed. Commander Root was not one to be caught off-guard easily, but considering that the light had come from nowhere, it was to be expected.

He barely had time to react before a sickeningly green light hit the ground in front of him. Scrambling out of the way, he watched as the LEP officers fumbled for their neutrinos and aimed – but there was nowhere to shoot. Their attackers seemed to be coming out of nowhere, completely invisible. Artemis knew better, though. _They must have known we were coming, and staged guards to attack us, _he thought. _Why didn't I think of this before? But now it's too late – we have to take them down before they kill us or go running back to their boss._

Butler wasted no time. He pointed his own Sig Sauer at the spaces in front of him where the light had come from, and fired.

A grunt of pain and a spurt of red on the cold northern ground proved that he had hit his mark. The man, who had been under a disillusionment charm, flickered back into sight, wounded in the knee. A swift kick from Butler sent him into unconsciousness, still dripping blood onto the earth.

His partner was not much more lucky – Butler's second shot also found its way home, into his left arm. Unfortunately, after seeing his companion fall, he had more experience, not to mention he could still walk. Swearing loudly in Russian, he ducked out of the way and sent another curse at Butler. Too late to dodge it, the bodyguard fell, gasping for breath.

The man moved his arm again, to finish Butler off.

"No!" Artemis yelled. Butler had sacrificed so much in their time together. He had followed Artemis orders without question, spoiled him even. He was a second father to Artemis, and during the past two years, his only father figure. He couldn't die now.

To hell with the rules – the Trace could stab him in the back for all he cared – Artemis drew his wand. "Protego!" Artemis knew that it would not be enough to stop a Killing Curse, but at least the force of the expanding invisible shield would be enough to push Butler out of harm's way. The sickly green light hit the ground where Butler had been lying just a second before, killing the tiny patch of arctic flora growing there and singing the dirt beneath.

Looking up in fury, the man turned on Artemis instead.

Artemis was faster. "Confringo!"

But the man was a grown, skilled wizard, and quickly said the countercurse, before he could experience its dangerous intent. With a wave of his wand, he sent a coil of deadly violet flames at Artemis, who smartly rolled out of the way instead of attempting to extinguish the cursed fire. Unfortunately, the fire hit the side of the overhang that Captain Kelp and Captain Short were standing underneath, effectively burying them underneath the rubble.

Attacking again, Artemis was successful as his blasting curse hit the man's flank. Coughing violently, the mysterious attacker clutched his side but sent a nonverbal spell in his direction. Caught by surprise, Artemis was hit head-on with the red light from the Disarming Charm, and was thrown several meters back, his wand skidding across the ground and coming to a stop five meters away.

The man advanced on him. He was by far one of the most disgusting urchins Artemis had ever seen (besides Quirrell). That did not matter at this point, though, because the very object of Artemis' disdain was grinning menacingly, wand raised.

Artemis was stuck. Helpless. Wandless. Against a psychopath that probably wanted him dead. His friends were either trapped, unconscious, or incapacitated.

His mother was probably at home right now, going hysterical. His friends would probably wonder where he was as the term started. And no one would be out here to recover his body.

Utter hatred built up inside of him. It wasn't fair! The disgusting men who had stolen his father from him was now stealing his life and future from him as well. What was his father going to do? He was still waiting. And would his mother lapse into madness again? He wanted those men to die. He wanted them to burn up – _to burn alive. They deserved it. _Artemis visualized his soon-to-be murderer going up in flames –

_Kill them! Kill them all!_

Where did those thoughts come from? That sounded a bit gory...

_Kill them all!_

A howl of horror and pain shocked him. Artemis blinked. Was he smelling smoke? Looking up, he gasped, and screamed.

Fire was licking its way around the man, like a great serpent devouring its prey.

His thick coat was hissing and blazing, like a huge bonfire, dancing and dodging in the night. At least it prevented his body from too much damage, which was more than his unprotected face could say. Artemis gawked in revulsion as the skin blackened and curled on the face of his mysterious attacker. Terrified, he scrambled to his feet and tried to back away, but found himself petrified in his spot. He could only stare in shock and dread, unable to do anything, to help or to hurt him. In his brain, Artemis knew that it was a good opportunity to subdue his opponent once and for all, but his body refused to listen – the most logical decision at this point was the one that appalled Artemis the most.

Had he done this? Set the man on fire, without even thinking about it? But he didn't have a wand – it was still lying off in the distance! And yet, hadn't he been able to move and transfigure things, even without a wand, when he was a young child? Hadn't his untamed, wild energy come out when he was feeling strong emotions like annoyance or happiness or even hate – such as now? Artemis felt dizzy.

_Yes...that's right. _

_Kill them. _

_They are stupid._

_They seek to destroy you. _

_You must destroy them first._

_They deserve it._

The man finally managed to put the fire out by dousing himself with a jet of water from his own wand. Third degree burns and charred skin littered his body, and sooty pieces of his blackened clothes were falling off. But he was still moving, he was still alive, and he was not at all happy.

A sudden laser burst caught the injured man in the forehead before he could take any further action.

Looking up in relief, Artemis saw that Captains Short and Kelp had managed to free themselves from beneath the fallen overhang, and were now back in action, with their guns drawn.

"Care to explain what all that was about, Mud Boy?"

Oh. They had seen.

Artemis opened and closed his mouth, trying to find an excuse or an explanation, but as soon as his lips had parted, he felt a choking sensation as a thick, metallic-tasting fluid filled his throat. He tried to cough, but a jagged, sharp pain shot up through Artemis' skull, like it was being torn apart, and his ears pounded. His limbs turned into fluid – he couldn't feel his arms or legs – he tried to move, tried to answer, but he felt dizzy and nauseous –

"D'Arvit!" he heard someone say, although the voice was buzzing – he couldn't hear – couldn't think clearly either –

More voices – but they had lost their meaning – someone was yelling, yelling his name –

Artemis' world faded to black.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, Artemis is hearing "voices" inside his head. That will be important later. Much, much later. Not in this book, or the next. Major Cherkoff's gun here.**

**I didn't specify many of the spells that the attackers used because this is coming from Artemis' point of view, and while he is smart for a wizard of his age, he is unfamiliar with many of the dark curses that were coming at him – especially since they are nonverbal. **

**Just so you know, those two minions were these random minor characters I made up myself. I generally don't like OC's, but I couldn't help writing a description for an "anorexic walrus" – oh yeah, that one's going to be around quite often. It's okay for them to be OC's in my mind because they're just there for plot emphasis and won't be reappearing as important characters later on.**

**And "father" Poliakoff is based off the one from the fourth Harry Potter book (he's the "disgusting boy" that had "dribbled food all over [his] front", in Karkaroff's words). **


	12. Confessions of the Crazy Mud Boy

_Artemis opened and closed his mouth, trying to find an excuse or an explanation, but as soon as his lips had parted, he felt a choking sensation as a thick, metallic-tasting fluid filled his throat. He tried to cough, but a jagged, sharp pain shot up through Artemis' skull, like it was being torn apart, and his ears pounded. His limbs turned into fluid – he couldn't feel his arms or legs – he tried to move, tried to answer, but he felt dizzy and nauseous –_

_"D'Arvit!" he heard someone say, although the voice was buzzing – he couldn't hear – couldn't think clearly either –_

_More voices – but they had lost their meaning – someone was yelling, yelling his name –_

_Artemis' world faded to black._

* * *

That was insane.

What had just happened? Trouble Kelp attempted to recap.

They were on a rescue mission to save that Mud Whelp's father from the middle of nowhere, and while they were _in_ the middle of nowhere, they got attacked.

At first he had thought they were lasers, but there was no one there, unless you factored in camfoil. One had hit the commander, and he had fallen to the ground almost instantaneously. Luckily, he was still breathing heavily – that meant he wasn't dead, just stunned. It couldn't have been a fairy – fairies couldn't shield here. Then the big Mud Man bodyguard shot the air – and two more big, ugly Mud Men appeared out of nowhere.

He was so shocked, that by the time he had come to senses, it was too late - those purple flames appeared and were zooming past him, and hit the rocky overhang behind him.

"Captain Kelp, watch out!" Holly screamed. She pushed him out of the way, and a large rock crashed down on the very spot that he had been standing on mere seconds ago. Swearing loudly, he curled himself up into the brace position and barely avoided another falling boulder. The mini-rockslide had stopped as quickly as it had started, and while neither he nor Short were injured, they were trapped.

"What in the name of Frond was that?" Captain Short said, panting.

Trouble shook his head. "We've got to get out of here. They've just taken the big one down, and they haven't even touched him!" he said, horrified, pointing through a crack in their earthly prison. "If we move this rock, the rest of the boulders will fall, and we'll be crushed."

"Yeah, well, no one says we'll have to go out that way. There's got to be another loose boulder that's small enough for us to crawl through but won't disrupt the structure of this thing," Short said, looking around… "Like that one." She pointed up.

He hadn't even thought of noticing that. Maybe he had underestimated her when they first met.

It had taken a while for them to actually reach their escape route and an even longer time to dislodge it (while small compared to the rest of the stones trapping them, it was still pretty heavy). But they had finally escaped…in time to see one of their attackers spontaneously combust.

The Mud Boy was on the ground before the burning man. "Why isn't he _doing_ anything?" Short shrieked. Indeed, the Mud Boy was sitting there like a deer in the headlights, glued to the ground.

Even more startlingly, the man on fire somehow pulled water out of nowhere and put himself out again. He was heavily burned and seemed a bit angry.

Just a bit, of course.

"NO!" Holly screamed. Before Trouble could react, the girl had already powered her laser, and with one squeeze of her finger, the Mud Man was floored, with a perfect bruise in the center of his forehead. Trouble whistled (inside his head, of course – he was afraid of what the feisty female elf would do if she actually heard him). That was an amazing shot.

But no time to think about that now. What they had to think about was the fact that of all creatures, Mud Men were creating and conjuring random matter and lights. It was surreal. It wasn't supposed to happen – and for a magical creature, that was saying something. What was it, anyway?

There was only one way to find out. "Care to explain what all that was about, Mud Boy?"

And then the Mud Boy began vomiting blood all over the ground and fainted on him.

* * *

"D'Arvit!" Trouble swore. "Don't die on me now, Mud Brat!"

His skin was turning cold and clammy and he was shaking heavily. Trouble had already witnessed his brother Grub freak out enough times to know that this was a sign of shock. Of course, Grub had never coughed up blood or went into a panic this severely before. "A little help here, Captain Short?" he begged.

"Try to heal him," she yelled. She had already checked up on Root and after determining that he was perfectly fine, was trying to revive the big Mud Man. Not an easy task.

Trouble looked back down at the kid. He actually felt bad for him – this wasn't the coldblooded, heartless creature that had kidnapped him. This was a little boy who missed his father, and was now paying the price for trying to rescue the man.

"Damn you, Mud Brat," Trouble muttered. "You're turning me into a sentimental fool with Stockholm Syndrome." Pressing his fingers onto the Mud Boy's throat, which was now stained red from the fluid dripping down his chin (disgusting), he called his magic out and hoped he wasn't too late. "Heal."

It took a while, but the kid finally stopped shaking, and color returned to his pallid face.

"It's okay, kid," Trouble whispered, trying to tell himself that this could have a member of his team, or maybe his little brother, and that it didn't matter whose life he saved as long as he saved a life. A bit difficult when you're dealing with an overly intelligent, criminal Mud Boy. "Calm down. You're alive. Just wake up – I don't want to waste my energy dealing with an unconscious human," he pleaded.

Luckily, or maybe not, the kid chose to open his eyes at that point.

* * *

"Butler!" Artemis yelled, feeling a gasp of cold air enter his lungs.

"Thank the gods. Calm down, kid. You're alive. You're just in shock."

The world came into focus around him. He was lying on his back, and Captain Kelp was staring down at him.

There was something wet around his mouth. Instinctively, he wiped it away, only to find that his fingers were stained red as he brought them back down.

Suddenly, he felt nauseous again.

"D'Arvit, Mud Boy, don't start hyperventilating on me again! I just used up a bunch of magic to heal you!" the elf yelled.

Artemis tried to calm himself. He was on a mission to save his father, along with three fairies, two of them whom he had held hostage just hours ago. Then, out of nowhere, a bunch – well, technically, just two – of raging psychopaths had tried to kill them all, only one of them got shot by Butler and the other one was shot by a laser from the elves.

Oh, and he had somehow set one of them on fire, without a wand.

Things couldn't get more ridiculous than this.

"Good to see you're back on earth," Captain Kelp deadpanned. "Now, if you don't mind, once the commander and Mr. Mud Giant wakes up, we have a bit of explaining to do."

Artemis groaned some incoherent phrase and collapsed back on the ground.

* * *

Commander Root's jaw nearly hit the ground. "What?"

After the entire incident, he and Captain Kelp had dragged the Mud Boy back into consciousness and interrogated him. The answers were far from logical or real, but they were the only solid explanation.

"Ever heard of wizards and witches? Mud People with magic?"

He was astonished. "But they went extinct centuries ago."

"Not extinct. Merely in hiding. Just like the fairies."

So this was why the Mud Boy knew too much. "Do they know about us?"

"The only fairies they know are these stupid creatures about the size of my palm." Well, that was good. "There are also goblins that work at their bank, but they aren't exactly considered fairies."

Root nearly choked. "They let _goblins_ run their banks?"

The Mud Boy nodded. "Yes, and before you kill yourself of shock, the goblins that live aboveground are much more intelligent than the ones you know – although just as crafty."

"Was it really so hard just to tell us about all that before we ran into these madmen?" Root snapped.

"Listen, I apologize for not telling you before – their attack was completely unexpected. I was planning to reveal everything later. In any event, that's your insurance right there. I'm a wizard. You're a fairy. I won't tell the rest of the world that the People are living underground, and you can keep the secret that Mud Men with magic still exist from the People," the boy snapped. He was nervously twirling a wooden stick between his fingers (magic wand, pffft).

"Fair enough," Captain Kelp interrupted. "What I want to know is, what happened back there? You just set some other Mud Man on fire and then nearly died on us!"

"You set a _man on fire?_" Root asked incredulously.

"I was angry, okay? He was about to kill me and I didn't have any other options!"

"Yeah, what about the nearly dying part?"

"I'm…not exactly sure," the Mud Boy confessed. "From my studies, I know that wandless magic is impossible for most wizards, and as you can clearly see from personal experience, even a simpler spell like that took quite a chunk out of me," the Mud Boy explained. "My theory is that he huge energy drain, coupled with shock at seeing a person spontaneously combust, was enough to rupture several internal blood vessels."

"This is messed," Captain Kelp said. "NOW you tell us that you can actually do magic, and that we're going to rescue your father from more crazy wizards like those Mud Men that just tried to kill us?"

The Mud Men in question were currently bound, trussed, and under interrogation by the big Mud Man and Captain Short's _mesmer_.

"Actually…I'm not even supposed to be doing magic. I'm not supposed to be out here. I'm underage."

The kid was definitely crazy.

"…Considering the circumstances and our location, however, I don't think that it matters. It's not as if they can reach us out here, anyway."

"Thanks, Mud Boy. That doesn't make me feel one bit better."

He chose not to return that remark, and instead, turned to Captain Short and the Mud Giant. "Any news?" he asked, changing the topic deliberately.

* * *

"Okay, their statement matches up with that of Foaly's. Their base is in the bay of Kola, and it's magically hidden by hundreds of wards that were just newly erected, making it invisible as well as untraceable," Butler reported. "They're using some sort of abandoned ship."

That made sense. "It would be ill-advised to try to break past all of the wards. The best option is to somehow lure them out, where we can then trick them into lowering the wards long enough for us to pass through and find my father. How many people do we have to go up against, do you know?"

"There are thirteen workers altogether, including these two, plus one unknown boss named Karkaroff," Butler said. "Karkaroff, though, is never around – he spends most of his time in Norway."

"That means we have eleven to go up against." That wasn't too bad. They were outnumbered – their opponents' forces were twice their size, but…"They will not be expecting fairy technology, which will give us an advantage," Artemis said. He hoped.

"Why do they even want your father in the first place?" Captain Kelp asked.

"We don't know. These guards were not high enough in the organization to be informed," Butler said.

"I suppose that the head of the organization and my father had a score to settle," Artemis pondered. "My family was not exactly loved." Now that Captain Kelp mentioned it, why did they capture his father? His mother had always been vague about that topic, and while she did mention old supporters of Voldemort, it didn't make sense that they would target his father, when greater enemies like Harry Potter could be taken down.

"I can see why," he heard Captain Kelp mutter, but chose to ignore him.

"We don't even know how many people we're up against, or how well they're trained," Captain Short protested.

"That is why we must leave now. It is best if we scout out the area first and plan accordingly. There is no point to building a strategy around an invisible foundation."

The group got up to leave. Hopefully they did not run into any more obstacles on their way to Murmansk.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What will we do with…?" Butler gestured to the limp forms of their attackers. "Should we dispose of them?"

"No. Mesmerize them. I have a feeling that they could be useful in bypassing those wards that are sure to be up."


	13. All Aboard

**I'm so sorry for the super late update! I make no excuses...school started, and well...what can I say. I got lazy and put it off. **

**I'll try to keep my updates as regular as possible. I still want to finish this series, but my enthusiasm is kind of low right now because of classes and my life in general...hopefully when we get to Thanksgiving break I can pump out more chapters to make up for this...heh...  
**

**Plus I started getting addicted to Naruto, and a black cat crossed my path, and Kakashi is awesome, so I -  
**

**Artemis: You do realize you're making excuses even when your second sentence was, "I make no excuses."  
**

**Okay, I'll shut up now.  
**

* * *

"How many have you counted, Foaly?"

They had ended up near the Bay of Kola after several hours of walking. Artemis was extremely tired, and that last escapade had not been very beneficial to his health. He could still feel burning in his chest each time he took a step.

What time was it? Artemis wished that he had his cell phone with him. In his haste to rescue his father, he had left it back at the manor, and it was only now that he realized that the familiar weight in his breast pocket was gone. It was a rather stupid move, he had to admit, although he doubted that a cellphone would be useful in a situation like this.

A graveyard for the war machines of the human race, the entire body of water was probably completely poisoned with nuclear waste. It was a perfect place to set up a secret headquarters. Humans could expand their territories anywhere, but even this place was one thing they left untouched. If not even _they, _the Muggles, could bother to attempt coming here, what was the chance that any magical authority, fairy or wizard, would bother investigating?

It was truly smart. But not smart enough for Artemis Fowl, because he had managed to find them. With the fairies' help, of course.

_"There's just one guarding the outside – his heat leaks through the force field around the base."_ Foaly's voice over the transmitter was faint, riddled with static as the magnetic fields and wind around the Arctic region disrupted the radio waves, but it was there. A small comfort, but even some minor reassurance that there was another's presence safely anchoring them to solid headquarters was better than none at all.

They could see the described person – a burly man in a thick coat, not unlike that of their captives, seemingly dawdling around the coastline. If one looked closely, however, one could see a slight shimmer, like the surface of a bubble, behind him on the surface of the water.

"What about the inside?"

_ "No data. My scanners are blocked. I can tell that it's some short of submarine or ship from the overall shape and location, but nothing on the internal structure or security."_

Figures. The wards would be too strong for any form of outside informational penetration.

"Well, what's the plan, Mud Boy? I'm not standing out here in the cold like this," Captain Short snapped testily.

Artemis bit back a retort. It wasn't even snowing, although the night was very windy, dropping the temperature down into the low forties Fahrenheit (which was about five degrees on the Celsius scale). Artemis imagined that the bay would be even colder – bodies of water around the Arctic were always freezing (or close to that) year-round, and one could die of hypothermia in minutes should they come in contact with it.

"All right. Our _mesmerized_ puppets will go up and demand entrance – and considering their injured state, I'd say that they would be allowed in quite quickly, not to mention that we will also _mesmerize _the guard. We will follow them in once the wards have gone down –"

"I don't know about you, but I think that people will notice us," Captain Kelp said. "This may have been hindsight, but we only have one sheet of cam-foil."

"Considering that these wards are powerful enough to withstand even Foaly's hacking, I'd say that they can withstand radiation as well. Not to mention, the wizards living under it do not know of the dangers of the nuclear waste in this region," Artemis pointed out. "That means that you can shield. I can perform a Disillusionment Charm, which should get past them, and Butler can take the cam-foil."

"What about when we get inside?" asked Captain Short.

"Once you run into someone, release the _mesmer_ – the confused buffoons will cause quite a commotion, and probably buy us enough time for a second diversion. Try not to get hit with anything…you saw what those two could do." Artemis winced as he remembered how easily all members of their group had been incapacitated or trapped with just a few spells from probably the most useless of the lot.

"That's a friendly thought," Captain Kelp mumbled.

"Indeed," Artemis snapped sarcastically. "From there, you should be able to 'persuade' someone to remove the wards. Preferably when there is a lot of chaos, so that their defense loss will go unnoticed for a longer time. Meanwhile, Butler and I will find my father – I am certain that he is in this base – and when I do, I will contact everyone."

"What if this doesn't work?" Captain Short asked.

"Then we will be ready with plan B."

"And what is plan B?"

"I hope that I will not have to resort to it."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't like it."

* * *

Getting past the front guard had been easy. He had nearly given the alarm after seeing the fairies, but a quick _mesmer_ had quieted him down. Once they had all been granted permission to cross the threshold of the barriers, Captain Kelp found to great relief that his ability to shield was no longer inhibited.

It was nothing special on the outside – an old, abandoned nuclear submarine, slowly rotting away in the bay. On the inside, however, it had been magically enlarged to form a rather impressive – and sinister – structure that was quite reminiscent of Howler's Peak. Trouble shuddered at the thought of the goblin prison. He'd been there a few times, and not a single one of his experiences there had been pleasant.

The halls were strangely empty. There was no one there. It looked quite suspicious, but from the heat-vision goggles that Foaly had given them at the beginning of the trip, there really was no one there. Wizards could not mask their living presence, even with the help of a disillusionment charm, the Mud Boy had explained. Lucky that the wizards did not have heat-vision goggles, then.

"Hey, Mud Boy! There's no one here!" Trouble hissed.

"No one?" Artemis asked skeptically.

"As in, zip, zero, nada, troll brain!" Trouble confirmed. "I don't know what's wrong with their security, but except for that one guard on the outside and the two puppets, there's no one."

"I doubt it," Artemis said coldly. "They will have to turn up sooner or later."

That was strange. He had been expecting more.

Artemis began to feel paranoid. What if his father was already dead, and his body was just dumped there? Was that why the entire ship was completely abandoned?

He scolded himself for being silly. If his father had been dead, they would not have used such a large ship with all those wards and a guard outside. His research (and Foaly's) had confirmed that father was inside the submarine, not at the bottom of the ocean.

But what if it was all a trap?

The conflicting emotions played inside his head. With each ticking second, things only got worse, and Artemis became more and more anxious.

"The place looks pretty abandoned," Captain Short muttered. They were still trailing behind the three _mesmerized _humans.

"Yep," Captain Kelp agreed.

"Doesn't give us a reason to let our guard down," Root growled. "There could be more Mud Men jumping out at us anytime."

As they moved on, the prospect seemed more and more likely – there was no one around, and each step they took down the corridor echoed eerily, like it was warning them of a waiting presence. "I have a bad feeling that this is a trap," Butler said.

Artemis was inclined to agree, when he saw a tiny sliver of light shining behind a door that had been left slightly ajar. Taking a few steps backwards, he peeked around the crack.

"Maybe not," Artemis muttered.

They stared at him. "You know, Mud Boy, for such a great strategist like you…" Captain Kelp began sarcastically.

"No, look," Artemis said, pointing. Inside the Captain's compartment, there was a large group of men, drinking and playing cards. One…two…skip a few…There were definitely ten of them.

"Well, this is convenient," Captain Short whispered.

The men were speaking in a cacophony of Russian mixed with a few other Slavic languages; evidently, the alcohol had not yet affected them reaction-wise, although, judging from their behavior, their tempers and sound judgment were already out the window. This would prove a problem, for them, at least. They were speaking so loudly and obnoxiously that even without Artemis' wide knowledge of foreign languages and the fairies' gift of tongues, one could easily understand what they were saying.

"How long do you think until Fowl will crack?"

"Well, we've been going at him…about a year? now, and he's still kicking…"

"Wish he'd just up already and tell us so that Karkaroff can get his ugly mug out of here."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"Pffft, he stopped checking on us a long time ago…Fowl's still around, isn't he?"

"Maybe I'll…maybe I'll go and yell at the prisoner some more. Curse him a bit."

"Will that help?"

"Nah, but it'll make me feel better."

There was raucous laughter at this remark, followed by the sound of a bottle breaking as it was carelessly thrown against the metal bulkhead. "Don't kill him," one of the more sober men warned. "He has to be alive or Karkaroff will have our heads."

"Spoil sport." More raucous laughter.

Artemis clenched his fists and bit his lip in anger. It was unbecoming of his character to get so riled up about things like this - he was normally very calm and stoic out of necessity and choice, but it was his _father_ that they were laughing about.

They were holing up his father here…torturing him for information. What sort of information, Artemis did not know, but he was going to make sure that these brutes never received it.

The man who had made the remark about torturing the prisoner to make him "feel better" staggered to his feet and started to leave the room. Laughing, the rest of the men got up and joined him. Artemis wanted to just attack them then and there…

Instead, he ordered the group, "Follow them. They'll know where the 'prisoners' are housed."

* * *

Karanin was in a bad mood. Damn that stupid Karkaroff – always ordering them around. He had promised them gold, and yet they had never seen it.

The vodka was getting to his brain. Good. It'd be more fun to take his anger out on the prisoner.

He didn't know who Fowl was, nor did he care. All he knew was that he was some rich Irish wizard who had gotten on Karkaroff's bad side. He had been asked to beat some sort of information (what information had long since eluded his intoxicated mind) out of the man, but it had been a year and the stubborn idiot still hadn't given in. It was really giving him a bad reputation as one of the best thugs in Murmansk.

Oh, and he brought along all of his friends, too. He seriously hoped Fowl didn't mind.

He expected the man to stay limp and unresponsive anyway. They had been warned to go easy on the Cruciatus curse, so that he didn't lose his mind before he told them whatever they needed to know – but even now, he didn't seem like he was going to break any time soon.

What he didn't expect was to be hit in the back of the head by a laser from an invisible elf.

* * *

Commander Root had to admit, he'd never been in a situation like this before in his entire career – which had spanned for a few good centuries.

Was it just him, or were all Mud Men crazy like this? He'd faced goblins, trolls, fugitives, you name it – but never a bunch of drunken Mud Men with magic. If he kept this up, he could retire to Cumulus House.

Now that all of them had congregated here in this one spot, they really had no choice but to take them all down. The Mud Boy seemed itching to beat them all down, anyway, and considering that they were going to gang up on the one man who happened to be the kid's father, Root felt slightly sympathetic. Just slightly. He could see all of the reasons why the kid went wrong, now.

So, minus the one that Root just shot, and the three that were still under the _mesmer_, there were nine left.

Nine very angry, ruthless, alcohol-induced Mud Men with magic wands, versus three LEP officers, a deranged child genius, and a half-troll with a surprisingly decent brain and an unrealistic knowledge of martial arts and fighting strategy.

It was no competition, really.

* * *

The entire fight was over in less than a minute. It was a bit hard to defeat your enemy when they were all invisible and had the advantage of surprise.

Butler had easily incapacitated one with one well-aimed punch to the side of the jaw and another with a good kick to the knees. Meanwhile, the three LEP officers' neutrinos and Artemis' stunning spells had taken care of the rest – he really couldn't tell who had done what because the jets of light were all the same color. Not that it mattered. And for good measure, the three _mesmerized _guards were also put to sleep.

His father was so close; a mere doorway separated them.

Looking through the bars, Artemis could see a distinct silhouette of a person. The man lay right there, in a dingy little cell smaller than Artemis' closet. His clothes were ripped, he was barefooted, his face was swollen and scratched, bruises were littered all over his body, his hair was atrocious, and his mental state had probably seen better days. His eyes were closed and his breathing was labored, like a deathly sort of sleep.

But even through all of this, there was that uniquely slim facial shape and the prominent widow's peak that Artemis had seen so often in his own mirror.

"Father?" he reached out an arm through the bars. They were so close, he could almost touch him –

The man's eyes fluttered open. The obviously deep blue orbs widened – he blinked his bruised and blackened eyes, pinched himself a few times – and whispered, "Son?"

"How touching," a cold, snide voice sounded behind him, and Artemis whipped his head around to feel the sharp tip of a wand press against his throat.

* * *

**A/N: Cumulus House is the fairy version of Broadmoor – a mental hospital in Haven City. It was mentioned in _The Arctic Incident_ when Opal Koboi was stated to have sent her own parents there.**


	14. The Second Plan

**See, I told you I'd update faster! I'm boss that way. Kind of. Maybe.  
**

* * *

"_Father?" he reached out an arm through the bars. They were so close, he could almost touch him –_

_The man's eyes fluttered open. The obviously deep blue orbs widened – he rubbed his bruised and blackened eyes – and whispered, "Son?"_

"_How touching," a cold, snide voice sounded behind him, and Artemis whipped his head around to feel the sharp tip of a wand press against his throat._

Artemis looked up. His friends were all scattered around the hallway, petrified. Their eyes were the only thing moving; they stared at him, horrified. His heart beat for Butler especially – imagine having to see your Principal held at wand-point by an insane man with absolute malice in his heart and murder uppermost in his mind. To helplessly let Artemis die in front of his eyes would be the utmost disgrace to a Butler.

"They're not dead yet, if you're worried," the man hissed. "I may just bind you first and force you to die last…after your dear father, of course."

Artemis could feel a sharp pain in his Adam's apple as he tried to gasp for air. "For someone so small, you are pretty clever…I may have underestimated the Fowls. Impressive – you took down some of my best men, and right when I was about to check up on their progress, too…then again, it was not exactly a fair fight, but Fowls like you don't care, do you?"

Artemis refused to waste his time answering. He may have been physically trapped, but his mind was not. He surreptitiously let go of his wand and dropped it into his pocket. If he wasn't holding anything, the Disarming spell would not work.

"You must be Karkaroff," he said pleasantly. "I am very pleased to meet you." _Not_.

"Polite little child, aren't you? I must say, you've done much better than your predecessor."

"I prefer to die happy." _Actually, I prefer not to die at all._

"You will find that we cannot always get what we want." Before Artemis could move out of the way (actually, he couldn't move at all) he was bound in the violet glowing wire, similar to the ones his mother had used to subdue the troll. "I believe this spell is familiar to you – Rodolphus Lestrange taught it to me, after all. He is your uncle, I believe?" It took Artemis a moment to remember that his mother's maiden name was Lestrange. That was not important, however.

"Now, as for your friends – and your father, too, I nearly forgot," the man, Karkaroff, taunted. Artemis tried not to breathe – the fool's breath was terrible. His teeth were yellowed, and his hair hung in loose, oily strings. His moustache and beard were in even worse conditions – one could not tell where one started and the other begun. The most disconcerting thing about the man was his overly cheerful expression; his smile would have been quite beautiful if it actually reached his cold, dark, pig-like eyes.

Artemis could feel the magical binds slowly constrict upon his chest, and his breathing became more labored. He had to do something – and fast. Luckily, he was also a genius, which made the stressful situation alleviate somewhat.

"Speaking of my father, prove to me that it is him," Artemis said slyly. If he couldn't open the door himself…

"Oh?"

"I cannot be sure. All I see is a sack of blood and bone in a dark room. I don't have any sentimental attachment whatsoever to your cousin Yuri."

Karkaroff grinned. "Intelligent, aren't you? Very well, then." The man opened the door to the cell and levitated his father out. _Success_.

"I guess I might as well perform while I have an audience," Karkaroff leered. _Wait, what? _"CRUCIO!"

Artemis watched in horror as his bruised and beaten father began twitching, biting his lip, before a strangled scream ripped its way out of his throat. Karkaroff released the spell, and then cast it again. Bile rose in his throat – this was absolutely sickening.

"No – don't!" he found himself rasping.

Karkaroff laughed. "Fortunately, your father is important…so I won't kill him yet. He loves you very much, you know – he's suffered over a year of this because he was just too stupid and stubborn to give in."

"You're sick," Artemis spat.

"And you're helpless," Karkaroff laughed.

Wrong thing to say.

Artemis Fowl was never helpless. He was a genius – a dangerous one. Even more so when he was angry. Like now.

Hatred began to consume Artemis. He remembered some of the things Butler had told him – _Focus your energy_. Artemis controlled himself, and directed all of his emotion at the glowing ropes that Karkaroff had conjured around him.

Karkaroff must have sensed that something was going on, because he stiffened and fixed Artemis with a look. He was right, for seconds later, the magical binds snapped apart, and bits and pieces of the coils ricocheted off the walls before dissipating, like the strained vest buttons of an inflating woman.

Another sharp pain shot up through Artemis' skull, but he didn't care. There was no time to succumb to the exhaustion associated with wandless magic now, not when his life, his father's life, and his friends' lives were at stake.

If Karkaroff was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he snarled angrily, dropped Artemis Sr., and headed straight for the son. Artemis dodged the curses sent after him, and a stray thought in his head compared his situation to playing Quidditch with thirty Bludgers instead of two. It was funny, how his sense of humor developed only in worst-case scenarios.

Time for plan B.

The one he knew they wouldn't like.

* * *

Artemis didn't waste his energy retaliating with his own attacks – he knew that whatever minor offenses he taught himself, Karkaroff would be sure to know the countercurse. Instead, he dodged whatever came at him, using his small frame to his advantage. Scuttling down the corridor, he looped around the broad end of the ship until his back was to the main wall of the submarine.

Finally, he had Karkaroff where he needed him. This was the most opportune spot, if he played his cards correctly. The chief support beams crisscrossed right at this wall, and they were the only thing physically holding the old decommissioned ship together.

It was all about timing.

_Time...time...what is time...besides that there is none..._

Artemis frowned. _Stop that, brain. It's distracting. I'm a bit stressed here._

Karkaroff sent another spell at Artemis.

A jet of ugly orange light was zooming straight at his face.

And Artemis did what any reasonable, logical human being who valued his life would do.

He ducked.

The curse hit the rather unstable wall behind him – with great impact. Cracks ran along the wall up to the ceiling, and the entire ship trembled. Artemis had no idea what that curse would have done to him had it actually hit him, but seeing that the sheer force of the energy contained in the beam alone was enough to shatter the structural support beams of the submarine...he knew that it wasn't going to be pretty.

_Timing...It is all about timing...One mistake, and you're dead. Don't screw up. Don't screw up. Don't screw up..._

_Shut UP! _Artemis snapped in reply.

The ship shook again, and bits of plaster began fluttering to the steel-tile floor from the cracked webbing that had formed on the ceiling as the result of that last curse. A rather large chunk fell and struck Karkaroff on the head, temporarily dazing him, and 50 years' worth of old dust and powder showered down on the two of them. The mist obscured his view of Karkaroff, but it didn't matter, because he knew that it would distract Karkaroff as well.

Taking this opportunity, Artemis drew his wand. "Reducto!"

He may not have known as many spells as the veteran, but he had plenty of common sense.

In this case, it was to duck and run before the entire rotten structure collapsed on them.

On the other hand, Karkaroff chose to stand there, screaming, "You devil! What have you done?"

Artemis shut his ears. "Finite Incantatem – Finite Incantatem – Finite Incantatem – Finite Incantatem!" he said, freeing his friends from the Body-Bind that Karkaroff had inflicted upon them earlier. They sprang into action.

The first thing Butler said was, "Get down!" A large slab of metal crashed to the ground, mere centimeters from him.

"We've got to get out of here!" the commander growled.

"Abandon ship!" Trouble Kelp wholeheartedly agreed.

Artemis for once, however, wasn't thinking about himself. "Father!" Abandoning his usual calm, he dove through the collapsing rubble to his father. Upon later reflection, it was probably the stupidest thing he had ever done up until this point. Even stupider than the entire Philosopher's Stone incident.

(What he didn't know was, he would be doing even stupider things in the future, as he matured and became wiser...which was, really, a paradox in itself.)

The ship was still falling apart, and Artemis was, despite all his skill, nowhere close to being strong enough to lift his father while running for his life at the same time. In face, he could barely run at all. He cursed himself for allowing this period of weakness, mentally and physically, in the time when he needed it the most. Emotions could go die in a hole. He would have easily been crushed had it not been for his bodyguard - and he had never been more thankful for Butler in any other moment.

"Sir, we have to leave now! Run!" Butler seized him by the collar and threw him to the exit.

Artemis was not at all religious, but if he didn't praise the lord for the man's massive strength.

Butler slung Artemis Fowl Sr. over his shoulder in a fireman carry and darted out after him. For once, Artemis was regretting not exercising more when he had the chance. But there was no time for regrets – if he hesitated now, he would never have a chance to regret ever again. Or do anything else, for that matter.

Up ahead of him, the three fairies were also running for their lives while dodging bits and pieces of the collapsing ship, all at the same time.

"The opening up there is just wide enough! If you're careful, you can fly out of there!" Artemis gasped, pointing. He wasn't sure if the fairies had heard him or if they were simply thinking the same thing, but they managed to activate their wing-packs and escape the quickly collapsing ship anyway.

"Grab on, Mud Boy! I didn't go through all of this just so you could die again!" Captain Kelp bellowed. Nice fellow, Captain Kelp. But Artemis did as he was told and grabbed onto the cable attached to the elf's Moonbelt, and clung on for his life. It took both Captain Short and Commander Root to drag Butler and his father up, and even then, their wings were on the verge of failing.

He could still hear Karkaroff's enraged screams. "You won't get away with this!" He began randomly firing hexes and curses after Artemis' retreating form. Due to his unbalanced mental state, however, he thankfully missed.

"I get away with EVERYTHING," Artemis retorted. "You, on the other hand, have learned the hard way not to anger Artemis Fowl the Second."

Karkaroff spluttered and turned purple.

It seemed, however, that he had finally regained his senses and managed to assess of the gravity of the situation. He let loose a long string of expletives and sent one last curse after him before disappearing with an ominous _CRACK_.

* * *

They collapsed onto the cold, hard ground.

"What the hell was _that_, Mud Boy?" Kelp snarled.

"That," the Mud Boy said, smiling his vampire smile, "was plan B."

"What, blowing up the entire ship and then running for our lives?" Captain Kelp interjected.

"Well, we could not just have blown up the ship and then stood there like sitting ducks now, could we?" he said sarcastically.

Captain Kelp couldn't help it. It was the most inappropriate time ever, and yet the only thing he could think of doing was collapse into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Maybe this was a glimpse of what went on in the Mud Boy's head all the time.

* * *

Captain Short and Commander eventually came up, dragging Butler and another man, still in Butler's arms. Butler set him down on the ground, and the Mud Boy jumped up and ran over. The kid, Trouble swore, was bipolar. One second he was this scheming intellectual, and the next – he was just a kid. A kid who had lost his father, found him, and saved him.

"Is he alive?" he asked calmly, trying to regain his composure, but obviously failing.

"Ugly, yes, but alive," Captain Short said.

"He's been tortured and beaten," the Butler said, checking the man's vitals. "For information."

The Mud Whelp – no, it was Artemis now – was silent, slowly taking in the form of his father. The sun was rising over the bay at this point – the night had been especially brief, given that it was summertime in the Arctic. The arriving light, if anything, sharpened the father's injuries.

* * *

"But he didn't say anything," Artemis said. "He was brave. He cared about…whatever the information was, so much that he sustained their brutality for nearly two years without giving up –" he choked on his own voice, and in less than a second, went from his normal, cool, sarcastic, controlled demeanor into a sobbing mess.

It was almost a minute before he stopped crying.

* * *

Trouble Kelp stood around awkwardly as he watched his own kidnapper break down in tears.

"Please. Heal him. He's in pain," the begged. Did the kid actually just say _please_?

Maybe there was a little hope for him after all. Even if the kid _had_ caused him so much unnecessary trouble…

But there was no reason to deny him that last favor. So it was done.

* * *

They were on a private jet back to Ireland.

Artemis Fowl Senior was currently resting in the back. Most of his injuries were healed, but the man was still asleep, quite weak. He would need a few days of additional care by human hands now – Artemis planned to do that at home. Bringing him to St. Mungo's would provoke unneeded questions. His face had also aged from the grueling experience he had endured for the past two years – no amount of healing magic would change that.

Artemis Junior had aged, as well. Though his young face did not show it, one could see the slight frown, the wrinkling of the eyes, that escaped his cool mask every now and then.

He knew it, too.

He was surprised that the People had helped him this much. He had, admittedly, been expecting absolutely nothing initially.

"I wanted to say, thank you to everyone…I couldn't have pulled this off without you. Thanks to you, I now have both of my parents…I owe you everything, even more than what I had originally stolen. And the way you flew us out of there was nothing short of spectacular…"

An elbow from Butler. He was rambling. Time to stop, now.

"You're welcome, Mud Boy. I wish I could say farewell, but something tells me that this isn't the last time we'll meet."

Artemis was silent.

"Oh, and Mud Boy – Artemis?"

Artemis looked up. They hadn't exactly called him by name before.

"Even though you dragged us into this mess in the first place, thank you. Those magic tricks of yours saved all of us more than once."

Artemis felt his lips curl into a smile – a happy one. If they ever met again – which they probably would – Artemis would have to put them on his friends list.

He realized that it was still sadly short.

Artemis watched the three fairies leave from the window of the manor's spare wing. It had been temporarily converted into a hospital for current purposes.

* * *

"The girl didn't even have to help, technically, but she did anyway. All of them – they gave more than they received. I feel like a terrible person compared to them," he confessed.

A silence followed, but it was by no means awkward. Butler placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and they stood in the stillness. Artemis was glad for it.

At least the voice wasn't bothering him anymore. He supposed it was just his mind reacting to stress.

_I'll be back._

__Artemis shook his head and ignored the voice, stuffing it into the corners of his mind.

"Sir?" Butler asked.

"Yes?"

"What are we going to do about Karkaroff?"

The man had Disapparated when the base had collapsed, taking the wards down with it. He was gone now, and there was nothing much they could do about it.

"Unfortunately, we must let it be. We cannot report him, because the actions I took to find my father were not exactly legal, and we could get drawn into the cross-examination as well. I wish that this would be the last time I will ever encounter him, but…"

"We know that he is far from gone," Butler completed the sentence that he could not bring himself to say.

"Thank you, old friend. The best course of action would be to keep on our guard from now on – I would not put it past Karkaroff to attempt another attack on our family again, as this one seemed quite personal," Artemis declared.

"You've done well, for now. That is all we can ask for," the bodyguard said sympathetically.

Artemis let another rare grin – a true grin – slip. "As for our little problem –"

He was interrupted by a piercing shriek of his name. "Artemis Fowl the Second, get down here RIGHT NOW!"

Mother.

Artemis paled, and hastily added,

" – can wait for later. We must deal with this one now."

* * *

**This is the second to last chapter, guys! Enjoy it...I had a lot of fun writing this.**

**The end is coming soon!**


	15. Epilogue

As expected, Angeline Fowl had been more than furious when she discovered her son gone without a word.

It had taken several hours to calm her down. Butler noted with amusement that Artemis, always two steps ahead, could not get away from his own mother, who could always move twice as fast as he did even when she was wearing high heels.

The boy had emerged, quite disgruntled and – what was that look? He seemed _cowed_, almost. Butler supposed that anyone would end up quite frazzled after several very explosive "lectures" from an overprotective mother – especially if that mother was a powerful, fiery witch like Angeline Fowl.

When she had calmed down enough for Artemis to explain his actions and show her the fruit of his labors…well, his mother's reaction was just as passionate as before. The entire cycle had repeated, although dear Lady Angeline was less angry this time and more shocked.

Artemis Senior had awoken to the yells, still ridden with amnesia (he only remembered the years under Karkaroff's rule and none of the rescue), and Artemis Junior had been forced to explain himself. Again. Of course, he omitted several of the details concerning fairies and was intentionally vague on how he had gotten past all of Karkaroff's defenses…

Butler would have laughed, but Butler did not laugh – because Butlers didn't laugh.

And the cycle of screaming and crying and hugging continued – mostly on Angeline's part.

Yep. Everything was definitely back to normal.

* * *

Artemis Fowl Senior's recovery had been steady. Lady Angeline noted happily that in a week, he would be able to walk perfectly fine – and even accompany them on their trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies.

Artemis Senior had been quite pleasantly surprised when he discovered that his son was a wizard. Having been away during Artemis' first year, he had no clue.

"Oh, Artemis, how I have failed you."

"You haven't, Father. You stayed alive for Mother and me – that is more than I could ask for."

There was much more to be said between all members of the family.

But we shall leave them to their privacy here, and close the curtain on their sentiments.

* * *

_Dear Artemis,_

_How was your summer?_

Artemis looked at the scroll of parchment in his hand. It was early August.

He reflected back on the past few days – they had gone by in a blur. He picked up his quill.

_I kidnapped a fairy. I tried to ransom him for some blueprints of some very dangerous fairy technology. The fairy police tried to kill me with a troll, before they finally paid the ransom, although I think they were planning to double-cross me after that, anyway. Then I found out that my father was still alive – and that he was in Murmansk. I went and rescued him, along with the help of the fairies that I just kidnapped. I learned how to set a man on fire and break out of magical binding using wandless magic and nearly killed myself through exhaustion. And when I got home, my mother nearly screamed her own head off – and my ears as well._

Even in his head, it sounded stupid.

So, he scrawled a reply – "_Did all the usual._"

The usual for Artemis Fowl II, that is.

And that was all.

* * *

**END BOOK 1 ½**

**NEXT INSTALLMENT: THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS**

**Review guys...the more reviews I get the sooner I'll post year 2! And believe me...this one is going to be good. I have it all worked out. You'll get even more hints about the mysterious voice in Artemis' head, for one, though I still plan to keep it a mystery until later books. If you're smart like Artemis, though, you might be able to figure it out.  
**


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